


MDZS, But If Lan Qiren Were Chill

by GrandH



Category: MDZS, The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: Cute, Enemies to Lovers, Found Family?, I Don't Like Angst or Conflict, Kinda, M/M, Romance, So There isn't Too Much of That, Soft Uncle Lan Qiren, Still New At Tags, Uncle Qiren Loves his Nephews, good parenting, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandH/pseuds/GrandH
Summary: Exactly what the title promises: how MDZS would go if Lan Qiren were soft and held his nephews' well-being over the rules of Gusu. Also if Wen Ruohan were just shady and not a power-hungry asshole
Relationships: Lan Qiren & Lan Xichen & Lan Wangji, Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, Nie MingJue/Lan XiChen, Wen Ruohan/Lan Qiren
Comments: 302
Kudos: 853





	1. In Which Lan Qiren Essentially Becomes a Father

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [MDZS, pero si Lan QiRen no fuera frío](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409598) by [Waningmoon21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waningmoon21/pseuds/Waningmoon21)



> I wrote this with both live-action and animated character designs in mind, but Wen Ruohan is definitely supposed to be from the animation, because animation Wen Ruohan is handsome as hell
> 
> Also, I'm not a native Chinese speaker by any means, so if I've made any mistakes, please point them out to me. I'm always happy to learn and correct myself
> 
> Also also, I'm super new at this, so likes and comments are always appreciated ^^
> 
> ALSO ALSO, MDZS and everything in it belongs to MXTX, nothing but the writing is mine
> 
> Does that cover my legal bases? I hope so ^^'

When his second nephew was born, Lan Qiren decided he would have to be a parental figure to both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji in place of their father, his beloved older brother who had secluded himself away from the world because of some foolish love. 

“It has been months now, Xiongzhang. Do you not want to see your son?” the younger Lan asked through the sliding door of his brother’s room, his infant nephew asleep in his arms. 

He waited a full five minutes, but his brother did not grace him with an answer; so, with a heavy heart, Lan Qiren returned to his own quarters, asking for one of the female cultivators to retrieve milk from his sister-in-law, also sequestered away in her own secluded quarters. She gave him a smooth bow, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the pity in her profile as she turned away.

He too felt immense sadness for Madame Lan trapped in her room, unable to see her children, unable to escape his own foolish brother. Lan Qiren settled in his bed, cradling Lan Wangji to his chest, allowing a soft sigh to escape his lips, a crack in his otherwise stoic facade. 

“Uncle?”

His older nephew stirred in the bed beside his own, blinking awake, those big gold eyes gazing up at him, and Lan Qiren felt that now-familiar rush of affection at seeing his nephew.

“Did I wake you, Xichen?” he inquired softly, reaching a hand out to place on the toddler’s head, smoothing his bedhead. 

“No,” Lan Xichen said, shaking his head, looking a tad frightened, so Lan Qiren easily lifted the boy up into his bed beside him. “...Uncle?” he asked in a small voice, huddled beside the acting clan leader’s arm.

“Yes, Xichen?” 

“Does Father hate Wangji and I?” his nephew asked quietly, and it broke Lan Qiren’s heart to hear a two-year old ask such a question.

“Of course not, Xichen,” Lan Qiren bent down and pressed a soft kiss to the boy’s forehead, a rare display of affection, but a necessary one. “Your father is in a... difficult situation.”

“And Mother?”

Lan Qiren paused. He could not attempt to begin to understand the headspace of their mother. Did he like the woman who led his younger brother astray, to a life of seclusion and loneliness? Of course not. But did he blame her for any of it? Definitely not. He had taken his nephews to see her once a month ever since they were born, and she never turned them away. Unlike his brother, he always noted with frustration.

“Your mother loves you both, Xichen,” he affirmed, pulling the covers up over his nephew. “Sleep, Xichen.”

“Yes, Uncle,” his nephew answered obediently, like always, which both delighted and upset him; but, not before he leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Lan Wangji’s hand. 

Lan Qiren heard his nephew falling asleep, his breaths becoming deep and even, and the female cultivator knocked gently at his door as she returned. He sent a soft burst of qi to slide open his door, ignoring the rules of courtesy as he waved for her to step into his private quarters so late at night. 

He had begun breaking the rules on the Discipline Wall when his brother had gone into seclusion, and he didn’t see himself stopping the trend anytime soon. He could only follow said rules so much when he was acting as a father to his nephews and a leader to the sect. He made sure to punish himself every time, naturally, but he wondered if there would ever be a time when he would return to some form of normalcy. 

The cultivator excused herself, and Lan Qiren placed the bottle she had given him on his bedside table, placing a heating talisman on it for whenever Lan Wangji would inevitably wake up and need to be fed. 

Lan Qiren settled himself into his bed, placing his infant nephew in between himself and Lan Xichen, carefully placing his head on a small pillow he had bought for the sole purpose of caring for the baby, and the young man allowed himself to close his eyes, the exhaustion of the day finally taking its toll.

The rules of Gusu demanded its disciples to sleep at nine, but these last few months, he had not been able to do so. Even asking other cultivators to help him care for his young nephews as late as ten at night. Granted, he exempted them from punishment, and they seemed happy to help him, but he knew he could not keep acting that way.

In an hour’s time, the nearly-silent cries of his baby nephew would rouse him from his light sleep, and he would awake to feed Lan Wangji before trying to achieve more sleep before the time to awake inevitably came around. But until then, Lan Qiren slept as soundly as he could, with the burdens of his responsibilities weighing on his mind. 


	2. Lan Qiren Essentially Becomes a Single Father and Berates his Absentee Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren navigates being a single parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was canonically Lan Qiren's idea to keep Madame Lan locked away so she couldn't see her sons, but I've chosen to ignore that because I don't like it
> 
> Also, I don't know the actual ages of Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, so... oops

Lan Xichen was six and Lan Wangji was four when their mother passed away, and Lan Qiren decided then and there that he never wanted to see either of his nephews looking that sad ever again. 

The wonderful older brother that he was, Lan Xichen held himself together far too well for a child, and it filled Lan Qiren with an immense sensation of pity that the boy had to mature so quickly. Xichen’s face was filled with heartache, but he smiled anyway as he glued himself to Lan Wangji’s side. 

Lan Wangji, though his face remained completely inexpressive, knelt beside his mother’s empty quarters in the snow, unmoving. He seemed to think his mother was angry with him, which was why he hadn’t been allowed to see her for two months; and Lan Qiren felt unsure for the first time in his thirty years of life. 

He and Lan Xichen both told Wangji that his mother would not be returning, but how to explain death to a child? How to explain death to someone in a world where cultivation could keep people young for decades, even centuries? How to comfort someone who loved as deeply as a Lan did?

“Please, Wangji, come inside,” Lan Xichen knelt beside his little brother, his eyes as gentle as always, but too old, too wise for his age.

“Nn,” the younger boy shook his head minutely, his little fists clenching on the fabric of his robes. “Not until Mother isn’t upset anymore.”

“Wangji...” Lan Xichen looked back at his uncle pleadingly, tired. 

“Your mother isn’t upset anymore, Wangji,” Lan Qiren swept down beside his nephews, ignoring the snow billowing around him, reaching out to place a hand on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “But she isn’t here anymore. She’s in a place of freedom now,” he said softly, gazing at her quarters, then down at his nephew. 

“Mother is happy now?” Wangji looked up at him, the first time he had moved his face in hours. His own eyes were a similar gold to Lan Qiren’s own and Lan Xichen’s, but it was a colder shade of gold, lighter, paler. Such a frigid color for such a young child, Lan Qiren had noted sadly. 

“Yes, Wangji,” Lan Qiren nodded, and then his heart fell at the expression on his nephew’s face.

“... Without me..?” he whispered, and Lan Qiren could not physically deal with it anymore.

He grabbed both of his nephews and embraced them both, uncaring of anyone who saw them and uncaring of propriety. He could hear both his nephews inhale in surprise. They weren’t unfamiliar with their uncle’s displays of affection and warmth, but it didn’t happen all that often after all. 

“Your mother loved you both more than anything,” he said softly, sending a burst of qi out to send the chill away from his nephews which had settled from their kneeling in the snow. “If anything, believe in that.”

“Uncle...” he could hear a faint warble in Xichen’s voice, and Lan Qiren lifted them both as he stepped back into the warmth of the main halls of Gusu’s Cloud Recesses. 

“You two are more than welcome to mourn your mother,” he said, bringing them both to his own quarters, asking a passing cultivator to bring tea and food to them. “You will not be punished for it.”

He made sure not to tense as both his nephews began sobbing into his shoulders. Lan Xichen was always the milder and friendlier of the two, always smiling, always demure, the perfect child. He made sure never to worry or burden anyone. He hadn’t cried since his infancy. Lan Qiren hadn’t even really seen him frown in the last several years.

Lan Wangji, on the other hand, was one of the most expressionless Lans Lan Qiren had ever seen, and by far the most expressionless child he had ever met. He rarely spoke, relying on his brother to speak on his behalf, and he rarely emoted. Lan Qiren had learned how to read his nephew’s microexpressions, and he was well-versed in the smallest facial tics Wangji would make. As soon as Lan Wangji grew out of his infancy, Lan Qiren never saw him cry. 

Now both his nephews were sobbing loudly into his robes, and Lan Qiren felt helpless to do anything about it. 

He brought them both to his quarters, holding them as they continued to cry and as they fell asleep in exhaustion. Lan Qiren placed them both into his bed, sliding his door closed as he left them with a silencing talisman on the wall as he headed towards the part of the Cloud Recesses he hadn’t been to in three years.

“Xiongzhang, this is ridiculous!” he couldn’t hold in his frustrations anymore, banging on the door to his brother’s quarters, rules be damned. “You may have lost a lover, but your sons have lost their mother and they’ve never even seen their father! How long will this behavior of yours continue?!” he demanded, the snow blasting away at the full force of his qi blasting out of him, the faint rustling of his brother moving behind the door catching his attention and the answering silence only angering him further “ _ Xiongzhang _ !” he roared.

“Loud noises are forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, Qiren,” his brother’s soft voice spoke up on the other side of the screen. 

The sound of his brother speaking almost shocked the anger out of Lan Qiren. It had been years since he had heard his brother’s voice, but the shock soon wore off and his anger came back. 

“Do you have nothing to say about your behavior, Xiongzhang?” he asked, exhaling slowly to try and calm down.

“No, Qiren,” his brother answered frostily. “Leave me.”

“Fine,” Lan Qiren answered just as coldly, his anger going so hot, it was freezing. “Ignore your wonderful sons as they grow into fine young men while you wallow here in your pathetic misery.”

That would be the last time Lan Qiren ever spoke with his brother, and he never regretted it.


	3. Lan Xichen Makes a Friend and Lan Qiren is Delighted About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nie Mingjue comes to Gusu, and Lan Qiren is happy about it

Lan Xichen is thirteen when Lan Qiren sees him laugh like a child for the first time, and he feels a heavy burden lift off his shoulders at the sight of it. 

The source of his nephew’s innocent laughter was the visiting heir of the Nie Sect during a Discussion Conference held at Gusu Lan that spring. All the heads of the sects visited the Cloud Recesses, but only Sect Leader Nie brought his own heir with him. 

It wasn’t unusual for a sect leader to bring their heir. Rather, it made sense since Nie Mingjue was already fifteen and at the age when heirs began learning how to take over the leadership position of their sects. It was the age Lan Qiren’s own brother had begun taking on Gusu Lan’s responsibilities. No, the fact that Nie Mingjue had tagged along for the conference did not surprise Lan Qiren. Rather, it was the size of the young man that surprised him so much.

The young cultivators of Gusu were known for being slender and delicate, beautiful in their features and slight in their statures, though they could grow pretty tall. Lan Qiren himself was quite tall, after all.

However, Nie Mingjue was one of the tallest people Lan Qiren had ever met, and he was still an adolescent. He stood a good half-head taller than the head of Lan sect, and a good two heads taller than Xichen who was growing splendidly. He had gangly limbs, but there was a strength in them that rivalled older and wiser cultivators in other sects who had studied in the Cloud Recesses years previous. 

Lan Qiren was quite impressed with the young man, and he could tell that his own nephews were also impressed with the Nie heir. 

During their conference, both Xichen and Wangji sat at Lan Qiren’s sides as they listened to Jin Guangshan drone on and on about having problems on his lands with night hunts. He could see the expressions on his nephews in his peripheral vision, and Lan Qiren almost smiled at the childish energy emanating from Xichen.

Lan Xichen normally was placid and calm, but he was fidgeting in his seat, stealing glances at the young Nie heir who glanced back at him every once and a while, shooting him friendly glances. Lan Wangji looked completely expressionless, even as an eleven-year old boy, but he cast glances at his brother, interested. It was the most emotion Lan Qiren had ever seen on his nephew’s face, and it brought him so much happiness. 

“Do we have any other topics of discussion?” Wen Ruohan interrupted as Jin Guangshan took a breath in the middle of his monologue.

Lan Qiren would’ve run over to kiss the man for finally getting the pompous head of Jin to stop speaking, but he restrained himself for several reasons: one: propriety; two: as attractive as the head of the Wen sect was, Wen Ruohan was the one of the least trustworthy men Lan Qiren had ever met (next to Jin Guangshan, naturally); and three, he didn’t really want to. 

“I see fit to discuss holding a lecture here in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren spoke up, stroking the beard he had grown to look old enough to be a sect leader and so that younger cultivators from other sects would stop flirting with him. 

“Ah, yes, Gusu Lan’s famous annual lectures,” Jin Guangshan smiled, and Lan Qiren felt a shuddering sensation of discomfort and irritation crawl up his spine at the sight of that man’s smile. “I’m afraid my heir is too young to send, but I would love to send several other disciples, if you don’t mind, Master Lan.”

“Of course,” Lan Qiren answered coolly. 

“I’m afraid my heirs are also too young, Master Lan,” Jiang Fengmian spoke up gently, and the prickly sensation in Lan Qiren’s spine soothed away. “I would like to send other disciples as well.”

Lan Qiren agreed to the other leaders who all declared the same, though the leader of the Nie sect offered that his own heir and two other disciples to attend the conference. Nie Mingjue straightened at the mention of his own name, and he bowed politely.

With the naming of the other disciples attending the lectures in two months time, the leaders all convened the meeting, and Lan Qiren asked that his nephews stayed for a moment to exchange pleasantries before allowing them to take their leave. Lan Xichen gave him that soft and pleasant smile of his while Lan Wangji simply bowed and followed his brother.

Lan Qiren watched as Nie Mingjue approached his nephews with a wide grin on his face. The Lan sect leader didn’t hear what the children were saying, but he could see the pleased flush on Xichen’s face as they spoke. 

Though he himself wasn’t too familiar with the tugs of romantic attraction, Lan Qiren could recognize the signs of it in his elder nephew, and he felt faint conflict at the sight of it. Love was the ruin of his older brother, but love was also something he wanted for his precious nephews. He wasn’t going to be around forever, and they didn’t have many other family members who were close to Xichen or Wangji. 

It was just the starting stages of infatuation, but a strong alliance with the Nie sect would be quite beneficial to them. Lan Qiren wasn’t against the relationship should it develop, unless Nie Mingjue were a bad influence on Xichen. 

Lan Qiren made eye contact with his younger nephew and motioned for him to come to his side. Lan Wangji blinked slowly, then made his way to his uncle, Lan Xichen looking at him in faint confusion but turning his attention back to Nie Mingjue who was animatedly speaking about something. 

“Uncle,” Wangji bowed and gazed up at his uncle expectantly. 

“Wangji, I would like you to keep an eye on Nie Mingjue while he is here and report to me on his character,” Lan Qiren stated quietly, and Wangji stared at him.

“Mn,” he nodded once without question and returned to his brother’s side, staring up at Nie Mingjue with that inscrutable expression on his blank, but adorable face. 

Lan Qiren almost chuckled. It seemed like both he and his nephew had similar strains of thought. The Nie heir seemed a little surprised at the sudden attention from the younger Lan heir, but he knelt down and spoke with Lan Wangji, smiling softly, and Lan Qiren could see the embarrassed pink tinge to the tips of his nephew’s ears. It seemed like the heir had somehow charmed both his nephews in the span of one conversation. 

After his nephews made polite conversation with the other sect leaders and disciples, they made their exit with Lan Qiren’s permission. He also left their banquet hall, to the courtyards near the center of the Cloud Recesses, and he noted that his nephews had conveneved with the Nie heir, and --away from the eyes of the adult cultivators-- they had relaxed, and Lan Qiren saw Xichen laugh boyishly at something Nie Mingjue had said.

Lan Qiren decided that, if the two became friends, he would do what he could to make the relationship as strong as possible. He had never seen such a look on his nephew’s face before, and from the starry-eyed twinkle in Wangji’s eyes, he hadn’t seen his brother make such a look either. 

The Lan elder watched as Nie Mingjue knelt down, holding out his bicep for Wangji to grab onto (which the boy did somewhat hesitantly). The Nie heir stood slowly so Wangji could get used to hanging off his arm, then Nie Mingjue held his arm out to Xichen who flushed and shook his head shyly. Nie Mingjue smiled, offering his arm again, and Xichen smiled back, gently looping his hands around the taller boy’s other arm, and Nie Mingjue began spinning around in circles, swinging both Lan heirs from his arms. 

Wangji didn’t laugh, but his eyes glowed and his mouth opened slightly, and Xichen giggled helplessly; and, Lan Qiren immediately returned to the main halls seeking the head of the Nie sect. 

“Sect Leader Nie,” he greeted as he reached the taller man’s side, and the sect leader turned to see him, his son’s same broad grin crossing his handsome face.

“Master Lan, how can I help you?” he inquired warmly.

“May we speak privately, Sect Leader Nie?” Lan Qiren asked, allowing a similar warmth to touch his eyes so not to alarm the older man.

He led the sect leader to a private room, placed a silencing talisman on the wall, and invited him to sit down as the Lan leader poured tea for them both. The sect leader sat down opposite him, accepting the tea, and waiting for Lan Qiren to speak. 

“I will be frank, Sect Leader,” Lan Qiren straightened. “I have heard of your legacy of leaders having died from early qi deviation, is this correct?”

“...Why are you asking about this, Master Lan?” the Nie leader asked, his eyes narrowing, and Lan Qiren could see the faint vibration of the sabre on the man’s back. 

“I aim to save your young heir from the same fate.”

If Lan Qiren were the type to laugh, he would’ve laughed at the look on the Nie leader’s face. Instead, he took a sip of steaming tea and waited for the man to compose himself. 

“Why..?” he asked, eyes wide, his sabre silent. 

“It seems my nephews are fond of your son, Sect Leader Nie,” Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I would hate to see them hurt by his premature death.”

“You’re telling me, Master Lan, you want to save my son and ultimately my entire family from our bloody family curse so your nephews won’t be upset?” the sect leader arched a rather perfect eyebrow, then burst out into laughter. 

One of the many rules on the Wall of Discipline was “No loud laughter,” but Lan Qiren found that he quite liked the man’s laugh. He spent the majority of his life in the sterile environment of Gusu, so he found anything outside what he was used to fascinating. Like boisterous handsome men.

“Let no one ever say that Lan Qiren doesn’t love his nephews,” the Nie sect leader chuckled, his cheeks red from laughter, and he grinned. “Very well, Master Lan. I’ll tell you what I know.”

That night, Lan Qiren taught his nephews the Song of Clarity and how to soothe rampant resentful energy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's gonna find out how much I love Nie Mingjue


	4. Lan Qiren Metaphorically Adopts the Nie Heirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren's paternal instincts kick it into high gear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only things I know about the Nie family dynamics, I learned from the Wiki page, so if I missed something about either Madame Nie or Sect Leader Nie, I'd love to learn about it

Nie Mingjue was seventeen when his father abruptly passed away, and Lan Qiren found that the sadness of the Nie heir would become a sadness shared by his own nephews, which naturally meant it was a sadness that he himself also took on. 

He and his nephews took the day-long flight to Qinghe Nie, both Xichen and Wangji strong enough with their cultivation to ride their swords all the way there. He preened in pride as they made it to the Nie estate safely and were greeted at the door by a couple cultivators. 

“Young Masters Lan, Master Lan,” they greeted, recognizing Lan Xichen who had visited quite often over the last couple of years. 

Xichen greeted them with his pleasant smile, though the sadness in both cultivators weighed heavily in the air. 

“Is Mingjue all right?” he asked softly, the weight of the world in his eyes, and Lan Qiren felt a pang of sadness. 

“Sect Leader is... doing as well as anyone would be, Young Master Lan,” Nie Xiaomei said softly, her eyes looking weary and exhausted. “He would be happy to see you.”

“Uncle,” Xichen turned to look at him, as pleadingly as his manners would allow him, and Lan Qiren nodded. His older nephew gave him a grateful bow and floated away, most likely to join his friend in his mourning.

“Did you wish to join your brother, Wangji?” Lan Qiren glanced down at his younger nephew as they walked into the main hall.

“Nn, Xiongzhang will appreciate privacy for a moment,” Wangji answered, his eyes forward, though his uncle could read the concern in the young boy’s face. 

Lan Qiren silently commended his nephew’s attention to social graces as they greeted the elder members of the Nie sect whom Lan Qiren had already been acquainted with. 

He truly felt for the sect. They were the only sect to border the Wens who constantly caused problems, alerting Lan Qiren to keep a closer eye on Wen Ruohan. Now with the death of the head of the household, Nie Mingjue --not quite in the cusp of manhood-- had become the leader of the sect and a father to his younger half-brother who was only twelve. 

Lan Qiren couldn’t help but sympathize with the young man. Over the last couple of years, Nie Mingjue had proven to be a good influence on his nephews. They acted more like children when they were around him, something they weren’t able to really do around their uncle. The late Nie leader was also grateful for their constant attempts to stem the Nie curse, constantly playing Song of Clarity for the Nie heir whenever he visited. 

The acting master of Lan watched as his elder nephew reappeared in the main lobby with Nie Mingjue at his side, and Lan Qiren felt a twang of sadness upon seeing how exhausted the older boy looked. Normally, Nie Mingjue radiated life and energy and raw excitement, but now he looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. But, he held himself together admirably, and Lan Qiren saw a small boy hanging onto the heir’s sleeve. 

This young child must have been Nie Huaisang, the younger half-brother to Nie Mingjue, and Lan Qiren figured the younger brother took after his late mother, rather than their late father. Where Nie Mingjue was built like a bull with enough strength to lift the entirety of the Wall of Discipline, Nie Huaisang looked like a stiff breeze would knock him off his feet. 

Lan Qiren approached the trio with Wangji at his side. 

“Master Lan,” Nie Mingjue bowed courteously, but Lan Qiren placed his hands beneath the young man’s arms and lifted them. 

“This is not a day for courtesy, Sect Leader Nie, but a day of vulnerability,” he said softly, placing a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You may have to save face in front of everyone else, but do not feel the need in front of Gusu Lan.”

“Oh...” Nie Mingjue swallowed, a soft smile on his face. “Thank you, Master Lan, but I’m afraid I must save face a little longer,” he said, giving a genuine smile to Lan Wangji, who nodded in greeting and gave a bow in consolation. “This is my younger brother, Nie Huaisang. I have mentioned him before in letters, Master Lan,” he placed a hand on the small boy’s head. “Say hello, A-Sang.”

“Hello, Master Lan,” the boy said timidly, bowing all the same. 

“I am truly sorry for your loss, Young Master Nie,” Lan Qiren bowed back. “Should you or your elder brother wish to have a moment of reprieve, the Cloud Recesses are always open to you both.”

“Oh... thank you, Master Lan,” Nie Huaisang beamed up with him, large eyes sparkling, and Lan Qiren had the fleeting desire to take both these children home to Gusu so he could protect them from the injustices of the world. 

“Why don’t Xichen and Wangji spend time with the Young Masters Nie?” Lan Qiren suggested, stroking his beard. “I shall make my rounds as the representative of Lan.”

“Is that all right, Uncle?” Lan Xichen asked, his uncle noticing that his nephew’s hand had not left Nie Mingjue’s forearm this entire conversation. 

“If it were not, Xichen, I would not say so,” Lan Qiren huffed, turning away so he could mingle with the elders of the Nie sect, hoping to hear that the sect was going to do well despite the many tragedies striking their families. 

From what Lan Qiren could glean, the disciples of Nie were steadfastly loyal to Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, fiercely protective of the young heirs, and Lan Qiren felt himself relax at the idea of it. He was glad to know there were cultivators who would care for the young Nies on their own territory. He had his concerns, what with the Wens’ territory bordering Qinghe. 

He eavesdropped on the other representatives from the other clans: Yunmeng was concerned as usual, polite and courteous. The Jins were arrogant and dismissive, the Wens were obnoxiously slimy. Lan Qiren sighed as he moved to stand before the portrait of the late head of Nie, and he placed a lit incense at the altar, giving a bow and giving his prayers.

“I promise to care for your sons, Master Nie, in your absence,” he said silently as he walked away, conversing quietly with the elder cultivators of Qinghe. 

An hour passed and Lan Qiren moved to look for his nephews. He didn’t mind them running around with the heirs of Nie, but he did feel a tinge of anxiety at the teenagers wandering around unattended so soon after the death of the leader of Nie. Though he doubted the Wens or the Jins would attempt something right now, having the heirs of both Gusu and Qinghe alone and vulnerable could be quite tempting. 

The sound of Xichen’s flute Liebing caught Lan Qiren’s attention, and he rounded a corner to see the four boys gathered in a small courtyard he wouldn’t have even noticed had he walked by. Lan Qiren stood behind a column, observing them.

Xichen was playing the Song of Clarity as Wangji sat right at his side, a soft look of admiration in his otherwise blank expression. Nie Mingjue sat opposite them, in a Lotus position, the furrow in his brow having smoothed as he listened, his young brother sitting on his lap, looking to be in awe. 

Lan Qiren smiled softly as Xichen finished playing, the soothing notes of the flute and Xichen’s own soothing qi having left him feeling at ease, the energy thrumming through his meridians cool and fluid. 

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes slowly, and a smile spread on his face as he reached out to Xichen, his massive hand gently wrapping around Xichen’s wrist, his thumb rubbing small circles on the inner part of the Lan’s wrist. He smiled, his ears pink, and gave him a nod in response. 

Nie Huaisang looked up at Xichen, pointing at Liebing and asking something. Xichen beamed brightly and began showing the younger Nie his finger positions for the Song of Clarity, and Lan Qiren smiled as his nephew taught the young Nie how to play. 

Wangji stared up at Nie Mingjue with his impassive expression, and Lan Qiren waited to see just what the elder Nie would do when faced with that thousand-year stare of his nephew. Nie Mingjue stared back at him with an equally impassive expression, and Lan Qiren watched as they simply stared at each other for at least three full sticks of incense before Nie Mingjue finally blinked and threw himself over in the most dramatic scene of loss Lan Qiren had ever seen.

Wangji blinked for a moment, then a small smile lit up his face, and he may as well have been full-blown laughing. Xichen seemed to be excited as well upon seeing the joy light up his younger brother’s face, and he knelt down beside Nie Mingjue, saying something with a bright look on his face. Nie Mingjue stared back at Xichen, slightly starry-eyed, which Nie Huaisang seemed to notice and commented on. Naturally, Nie Mingjue turned a bit red and started playfully yelling at his younger brother. 

Lan Qiren thought back to when he was young, when he would run around with his older brother, with Jiang Fengmian, Cangse Sanren, Wei Changze. They weren’t burdened by the tease of war, of inheriting the leadership of their sects too early. His heart ached for this generation of cultivators. 

“Will you be all right, Mingjue?” Xichen had asked, placing his hand on the taller boy’s arm. 

“I’ll be fine, Xichen,” he said with a faint smile, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand Xichen wasn’t touching. “I’ve got good people to rely on, and I have you, don’t I?” he added with a disarming grin.

“Mn, yes,” Xichen smiled back, biting his lip slightly. “Whatever you need, Gusu Lan will be there for you. And for A-Sang,” he said, reaching out and ruffling Nie Huaisang’s hair. 

“Thank you, Xichen-ge!” Huaisang chirped cheerfully.

Lan Qiren gazed at them, the faintest fondness in his eyes, an expression not many would have been able to see in him. Many of the disciples in Gusu were older than his nephews, and the ones who were close to their age were too frightened of their titles as heirs of Lan to become close. 

“Sect Leader Nie,” Lan Qiren spoke up, emerging from his observation spot. 

“Master Lan,” Nie Mingjue stood, bowing at the waist, and Lan Qiren lifted him out of the bow yet again. 

“As Xichen said earlier, whatever you need, Gusu Lan will be there for you,” the acting leader of Lan said with a faint smile, and Nie Mingjue blinked at him in surprise. “Any friend of Xichen and Wangji’s is a ward of mine,” he said, and all four boys looked up at him in shock. 

“Sir?” the young head of Nie swallowed, brow furrowed.

“As long as you remain as upright and as just as your father, Nie Mingjue, Gusu will be your steadfast ally,” Lan Qiren answered smoothly. “Is that dissatisfactory to you, young master?”

“Not at all, thank you, Master Lan,” Nie Mingjue bowed his head, a warm smile on his face, similar to his late father’s. “I humbly accept your alliance.”

“Shall we speak of terms over tea?” Lan Qiren stroked his beard, and Nie Mingjue nodded, leading the way to the main room.

“Uncle?” Xichen spoke up quietly, looking at Lan Qiren curiously.

“Show your face around with the mourners, Xichen, it won’t do for you and Wangji to be absent during all this,” Lan Qiren waved his hand as he followed the young leader through the Unclean Realm. 

Nie Mingjue opened a door to what appeared to be his father’s office and allowed Lan Qiren to enter first. As the leader of the Nie sect closed the door behind him, he turned to see the leader of Lan standing right behind him, chests almost brushing together.

“Master Lan?” Nie Mingjue stepped back in surprise.

“As much as I admire you, Sect Leader Nie, if you hurt Xichen’s feelings...” Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed, inwardly laughing at the look of fear flickering across Nie Mingjue’s face, “Well, you are aware of how much I love my nephews.”

“Yes, sir,” Nie Mingjue nodded, that earnest and serious expression taking over his features, making him look older than he is. “I would never dream of hurting Xichen or Wangji.”

“Hm. Good, now, let’s speak terms,” Lan Qiren elegantly swept into a sitting position on the opposite side of Nie Mingjue’s desk.

“Master Lan...” Nie Mingjue also sat down, and his expression changed to one of uncertainty, looking like the child that he truly was. “You do not... object to my... closeness with Xichen?” he asked carefully, looking as if he were vibrating in anxiety. 

“Have you ever seen me in the company of a woman, Sect Leader Nie?” Lan Qiren arched an eyebrow, then actually chuckled when Nie Mingjue sputtered into his tea. “I do not object to you being a source of comfort for my nephew. Heavens know we all need someone like that,” he said smoothly, sipping at the tea, marveling at the aroma. “I simply wish to protect his heart,” he said softly, his heart aching as he thought about his brother. 

“I would protect him with my life, Master Lan,” Nie Mingjue said in that painfully serious way of his, that earnestness that he inherited from his father. “Both Xichen and Wangji, I swear it.”

“Do not treat your life so frivolously, Mingjue,” Lan Qiren said sternly, probably startling the young man with the use of his name. “Neither Xichen or Wangji deserve to have your life on their conscience,” he reached forward and placed a paternal hand on Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “Your generation is the one to inherit this world. Think of life, not of sacrifice.”

“Yes, Master Lan,” Nie Mingjue smiled and bowed his head. “That is... what my father used to say,” he blinked rapidly, and Lan Qiren could see him fighting back the tears he had kept restrained for so long. “Thank you,” he bowed his head even lower, and Lan Qiren could see those broad shoulders quivering. 

“You need not save face in front of me, Nie Mingjue. Today is your father’s funeral. You should grieve him freely,” he spoke, and they sat in near silence, Lan Qiren watching over the young heir as he finally allowed himself to mourn. 

“Da-ge..?”

They both turned to see Nie Huaisang’s little head poking in, looking worried, then alarmed seeing his older brother crying. “Master Lan, what did you do to Da-ge?” he demanded in a tiny voice, looking frightened but stubbornly defending his brother regardless. 

A beast of fondness rose in Lan Qiren’s chest at the sight.

“He didn’t do anything, A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue held his arm out to the small boy who ran straight to him and hugged him. “Say sorry, don’t disrespect Master Lan.”

“Sorry, Master Lan,” Huaisang sniffed, looking ready to cry since Nie Mingjue was, but holding it together anyway. 

“Do not worry about it, Young Master Nie, I admire your dedication to Sect Leader Nie,” Lan Qiren said. “Brothers should watch out for each other.”

Nie Huaisang nodded as his older brother hugged him back, and --at the realization that Nie Mingjue wasn’t being harassed by the head of Lan-- he also began to cry as well. 

Lan Qiren watched in fond sadness at the orphaned boys before him, crying their hearts out, mourning their shared father. The second Madame Nie had only passed away three years ago, and the first Madame Nie had passed away fifteen years ago.

As he sat there, Lan Qiren had another surge of parental feelings. He decided to do what he could so that these young men wouldn’t have to deal with another immense loss in their youth. This newer generation seemed to have to grow up so quickly, and he hated it. 

That day, Lan Qiren --in his heart-- adopted the Nie heirs as his own. 


	5. Lan Qiren Meets Wei Wuxian and Becomes Everyone's Surrogate Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren finds himself becoming the resident father of Gusu, because none of his students have good parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren now has BDE (Big Dad Energy)

Lan Wangji is sixteen when the hurricane that is Wei Wuxian breezes into the Cloud Recesses, and Lan Qiren hadn’t felt so conflicted in years.

He had proudly watched his nephews grow into fine cultivators, young men who he could confidently trust to run the sect if something were to happen to him. He watched as Lan Xichen became an exemplary heir who always kept a level-head, who could soothe the most furious of tempers. He watched as Lan Wangji became synonymous with ethereal detachment, someone people gossiped about being a celestial deity. 

And then, he watched as the wild son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze burst into the Cloud Recesses with a smile like his father and the personality of his mother. Lan Qiren felt both blazing irritation and reluctant fondness at seeing the young man. 

The boy was everything Gusu Lan disciples were raised not to be. He was loud, thrumming with energy, somewhat vulgar; but, he was bright, he was brilliant, he was friendly, and he brought out a side to Wangji that Lan Qiren had never seen before. 

Wei Wuxian made his nephew irritated, angry, annoyed, and it delighted Lan Qiren in a way. He had worried for years about his younger nephew, about how nothing seemed to move him outside of Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen. Over the years, he had warmed up to Nie Mingjue and he was familiar with Nie Huaisang, but nobody had ever pulled such colorful emotions out of Wangji before. Lan Qiren appreciated what the young man brought to his nephew’s life.

However! He didn’t listen in class, he spoke of nearly-heretic ideas, he distracted other disciples and delayed the process of education. Yes, Lan Qiren was quite conflicted. 

“What do you think of Young Master Wei, Xichen?” Lan Qiren asked as he and his nephew had tea together, discussing lectures and what to teach the visiting disciples. 

“Young Master Wei?” Xichen hummed softly, his eyes gentle like his father’s were in their youth. “He is a bit energetic and a little wild, but he is bright and he is charming,” he smiled. “He is good for Wangji.”

“Mn, speaking of good influences, how are things with Sect Leader Nie?” Lan Qiren asked, amused as always to see Xichen so unbalanced, his ears pink, his eyes wide in surprise. He still wasn’t used to his uncle speaking so freely of their relationship. 

Surely after speaking about the closeness between Xichen and Nie Mingjue for the past three years, Xichen would’ve gotten used to speaking about it already. If anything, Lan Qiren was the one who wanted to bang his head against a table whenever his nephew spoke about his not-quite-relationship with the young master of Nie.

Lan Qiren had always been good at seeing romantic attraction between people, even if he didn’t feel it so often himself. He could see how infatuated Xichen was with Nie Mingjue. He could also see that Nie Mingjue was a completely mature and reliable leader, despite his young age, and that he was one of the most capable young cultivators Lan Qiren had ever seen. And despite all that, Nie Mingjue turned into a clumsy lovesick teenager whenever he set eyes on Xichen. 

It was sweet, and Lan Qiren wished the two would get their act together already. He had shown no qualms at their friendship. What could they possibly be worried about? Perhaps someone as reckless as Wei Wuxian would spur Wangji into motion. 

“He is well, Uncle,” Xichen answered diplomatically, and Lan Qiren sighed softly. 

“Then I am glad,” he answered. “Whenever his burdens become too heavy to bear, he is always welcome to come here and be a child once again.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Xichen beamed, and Lan Qiren was content with the happiness on his nephew’s face. 

“Uncle Lan!”

Nie Huaisang popped up at the open doors of his office, bright smile on his face, pretty fan in his hand. Lan Qiren had long given up on expecting some kind of decorum from Nie Huaisang after the young boy had realized Lan Qiren had looked at the Nie heirs as his own wards. Lan Qiren had quietly stated they were like family to him, which Nie Huaisang had taken to heart. 

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Qiren sighed, waving a hand for him to sit down. “Shouldn’t you be studying?” he arched an eyebrow, and the boy sat down fanning himself. 

“I have studied already, Uncle Lan,” he answered airily, waving at Xichen in greeting. “I have come to report something I think you would be concerned about,” he snapped his fan closed, then looked at him, unusually earnest, his large eyes almost resembling his older brother’s for a moment.

“And what is that, Nie Huaisang?” he asked in return, Xichen’s own expression fogging in concern.

“It has come to my attention that far too many of the other clan heirs have terrible parents, and I would like you to step in,” Nie Huaisang stated with a smug finality that made Lan Qiren think he was joking until he realized the boy was serious. 

“You’re serious,” Lan Qiren blinked, and Nie Huaisang smiled.

“Yes!” he nodded enthusiastically. “Come now, Uncle Lan! You became like a father to Da-ge and I when we lost our father. You are like a father to Xichen-ge and Lan Wangji, why not act as one to all these misguided young heirs?” he pouted, an expression Lan Qiren had seen work wonders on getting out of practice when used on Nie Mingjue. 

“It is not my responsibility to act a parent to the disciples of other clans, Nie Huaisang, much less my place to do so,” he mused. 

“But Uncle Lan,” he whined, breaking at least three sect rules, but Lan Qiren didn’t bother correcting him, “I can tell after moments with the lot of them that they need guidance. Who better than the Grandmaster of Lan, heading all the lectures for the summer class?”

“Pray tell, what are the problems the other heirs seem to have, A-Sang?” Xichen inquired.

“No gossiping,” Lan Qiren spoke up, glancing at his nephew who simply smiled and bowed his head. 

“It’s not gossiping, Uncle Lan, it’s simply the statement of information, like teaching,” Nie Huaisang said with a victorious smile, flipping his fan open and fanning himself. 

Lan Qiren almost laughed. If Nie Mingjue could act as a shield and protect Qinghe with sheer strength alone, then Nie Huaisang was more than capable of being a political sword to aid his brother’s defense. 

“I shall decide if this is information or gossip, Nie Huaisang,” he said, gazing at the young boy earnestly. 

“Well, first, did you know of Young Master Jiang’s relationship with his father?” Nie Huaisang frowned, and the Lans mirrored his expression.

“Jiang Wanyin?” Xichen tilted his head. 

“Mn, his father dotes on Young Master Wei, but he only speaks to Young Master Jiang when absolutely necessary. It seems to be the reason why Madame Yu disdains Young Master Wuxian so,” the young Nie heir pouted.

“How did you hear all this, A-Sang?” Xichen gazed at him in awe.

“Da-ge doesn’t like to listen to people complain, so I must,” he sighed as if it were a burden and not his favorite pastime. “Ah, Young Master Jiang and Young Master Wei didn’t tell me about it though. I heard from members of the Jin family.”

“So these members of the Jin family are gossiping?” Lan Qiren asked.

“You didn’t hear it from me, Uncle Lan,” Nie Huaisang averted his gaze playfully. “Besides, their heir was betrothed to Jiang Yanli because Madame Jin and Madame Yu are friends, but Young Master Jin is too proud and he rejected Jiang Yanli, but he really does like her, he’s just bad at speaking, most likely because his father made so many enemies with his philandering, so he doesn’t know who to trust. 

“So, there’s Young Master Jin who can’t trust anyone because of his father and whose mother actively hates his father with a horde of half-siblings he may never have heard of, there’s Young Master Jiang whose father favors his ward over his own son and whose mother is filled with this misdirected anger, and there’s Young Master Wei who is caught between the doting father figure and the vicious mother figure who cannot outshine his younger brother but cannot fail the family he represents,” Nie Huaisang listed, and Lan Qiren --who wasn’t old by any means-- felt far too old to have this conversation. 

Lan Qiren stared at him, processing all the information the younger Nie just decided to toss at him. He knew that he had no place trying to act as some sort of father figure to the other heirs of the other sects, but he had desired a father who would have given his brother guidance, someone who could have led them on a brighter path. 

The traditions of Gusu Lan were stifling, Lan Qiren would admit, and they led to young disciples who didn’t know support or love should they desire something outside the Cloud Recesses’ teachings. He wanted his nephews to know that he would love them regardless of where they decided to go and what they decided to do. Those feelings stretched out to the heirs of Nie. Would it be so wrong to give that love and support to the young heirs of the other sects?

“Very well, Nie Huaisang,” Lan Qiren gave a slow sigh, and almost smiled when the young boy’s face absolutely lit up. “I shall endeavor to give advice, but nothing more,” he gave the boy a stern look.

“Thank you, Uncle Lan!” he chirped, bowing gratefully and darting out.

“No running!” Lan Qiren called out after him uselessly. 

“Would you truly act as confidant for these disciples, Uncle?” Xichen asked softly.

“If you and Wangji were in their position, I would not stand for it, Xichen,” Lan Qiren gazed evenly at his nephew. “I don’t see why I cannot do the same for these disciples who simply need kindness and compassion.”

Xichen looked at him for a long moment, and his expression became unbearably warm. He smiled, reaching over the table to place a hand on his uncle’s for a moment and squeezing it.

“Wangji and I are very lucky to have you, Uncle,” he said, then stood with a bow. “Shall I inform the disciples that should they have any scruples to come to you about them?”

“You may,” Lan Qiren waved his nephew off with a deep sigh. He doubted anyone would seek him though. He had a reputation for being strict and stern. He was only warm to his nephews and the Nie heirs, after all. 

Naturally the first person to disrupt his peace was Wei Wuxian. 

“Master Lan,” the bright-eyed disciple greeted him as he sat in his office, correcting tests.

“Young Master Wei,” Lan Qiren greeted cautiously as the young man shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

“May I ask you something?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his face but with tension in his shoulders, and Lan Qiren could see just how much the boy looked like his parents. 

“You may,” Lan Qiren placed his brush down, giving the boy his attention.

“I wish to get a gift for Lan Zhan, but he won’t tell me what he likes,” Wei Wuxian said quietly, looking as if he feared Lan Qiren would punish him for such a question. 

_ Lan Zhan? How did this boy get to call his nephew so familiarly? _ Lan Qiren blinked in surprise. 

“What is the occasion?” he asked instead, and Wei Wuxian’s head shot up to look at him, owlishly. 

“You... aren’t upset, Master Lan?” he looked incredulous, and really, where did this notion that he was impatient and angry come from?

“Why would I be upset if someone wished to spoil my nephew?” Lan Qiren arched an eyebrow, and Wei Wuxian’s face lit up like the sun. “You do not intend to harm him, do you, Young Master Wei?”

“No, no, no, of course not!” he shook his head vehemently. “I know I’ve been bothering him, and I wanted to apologize, but I don’t know what he likes...”

“And why have you come to me instead of Xichen?” Lan Qiren asked, knowing his nephew had the reputation of soft and sweet kindness.

“I asked Xichen-ge, but he said  _ ‘I believe Wangji would be happy with anything you gave him, Young Master Wei’,, _ ”he answered with a surprisingly accurate impression of the elder Lan, spring-soft eyes and gentle moonlight smile and all.

Lan Qiren sat back in his seat, pondering. It wasn’t like Wangji was the type of person to talk about the things he liked or the things he disliked. He wasn’t really the type of person to speak at all, if he weren’t prompted. 

But, Lan Qiren had watched him over the years. Of course he watched his antisocial, stoic nephew. Wangji’s signs of discomfort were things he made sure to keep an eye out for. And he kept attention to the things that Wangji hated, as well as the things that made his frozen eyes warm ever so slightly. 

“Mn... Wangji likes rabbits,” Lan Qiren finally spoke up, and Wei Wuxian perked up. 

“Really?” he beamed. “Thank you, Master Lan!” he bowed deeply, about to run off, but Lan Qiren stopped him.

“Young Master Wei,” he spoke up, and Wei Wuxian stopped all movement.

“Yes, Master Lan?”

“... Your relationship with Madame Yu, how is it?” he asked, and Wei Wuxian’s expression turned completely confused. 

“Um... why?”

“I have heard many rumors of the Violet Spider’s infamous temper, I simply wish that it does not turn to her children,” he said, and he caught the flicker of heartache that shot through the boy’s big eyes. 

“Madame Yu is strict and stern, but she has treated me well despite my not being her own child,” Wei Wuxian smiled, but it was a much dimmer smile than the ones he had just given, and Lan Qiren’s heart broke a little at the sight. He hadn’t realized how soft he was for other disciples the same age as his nephews. 

“Remember this, Young Master Wei,” he spoke up after a contemplative pause. “Xichen and Wangji are not my children, but I will do everything in my power to see their happiness. Speaking of your parent should not bring such an expression of pain on your face.”

“She is good to me, Master Lan,” Wei Wuxian said, but his voice sounded small and forced.

“I do not doubt she treats you the way she treats her own children, Young Master Wei, and I do not intend to judge her parenting ability as I have not witnessed it firsthand,” Lan Qiren said in a firm voice, “but I have heard of her temper; and, I do know that if Xichen or Wangji spoke about me with such looks in their eyes, I would never forgive myself.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes rimmed red slightly, as if he wanted to cry, and really, how badly did Madame Yu treat her ward? Lan Qiren needed to sit down with both leaders of Jiang to figure out how they were treating their own children. 

“Young Master Wei, I am of a strong belief that your generation matters far greater than my own. Should you need guidance, support, or sympathy, do not fear seeking me out,” he said, reaching out and placing a hand on the boy’s head, the feel of his smooth hair similar to that of his father’s. 

“Ah... yes, thank you, Master Lan,” Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly, that bright smile back on his face as he bowed. “I truly appreciate it,” he beamed, then ran off. 

After that, it seemed as if Wei Wuxian felt at ease talking to him about any problem he had: from complaining about Jin Zixuan, complaining about the food at Gusu, complaining about all the rules they had in the Cloud Recesses, whining about how Wangji wasn’t paying him enough attention. 

Lan Qiren had half a mind to tell him to stop visiting if all he would do was complain about his home, but sometimes Wei Wuxian would come, looking tired and far too old for his age, asking about how to be a good son, how to temper the anger of a loved one, and Lan Qiren felt his frustrations ebb away. 

“You really don’t mind me coming to you for my problems, Master Lan?” he asked one afternoon after a lecture.

“If I minded, would I not have said so already, Wei Wuxian?” he arched an eyebrow, flicking his sleeves out, and Wei Wuxian’s radiant laughter filled the room. 

“Actually, Master Lan... Jiang Cheng wanted to know if he could speak with you too,” he said quietly, twirling the strands of hair that were loose from his ponytail. “He saw that I was behaving better, smiling brighter, he said,” he chuckled softly. “He asked why and I told him I came to you for advice when I was lost,” he looked up at him pleadingly. “Would it be all right for my brother to come speak with you too, Master Lan?”

“When have I ever turned away someone who needed help, Wei Wuxian?” he asked immediately, without hesitation, and the boy laughed.

“Mn, never, never!” he stood with a bow. “I’ll go get him right now, Master Lan, don’t go anywhere!” he called as he ran out. Lan Qiren didn’t bother quoting the Wall of Discipline at him. 

A little while later, Lan Qiren looked up to see the heir of Jiang peek around the doorway. From what the head of Lan heard walking around the Cloud Recesses, the Jiang heir was just as loud as Wei Wuxian, though twice is irritable. The boy behaved well in class, however, so Lan Qiren assumed the temper came from trying to rein in Wei Wuxian. 

“Do not linger in the doorway, Young Master Jiang,” he spoke up, watching as the boy walked in sheepishly, his hands fidgeting nervously. “Would you like to join me for tea?” he asked, already setting a tea cup at the seat opposite him.

“Sir?” Jiang Wanyin looked floored.

“Yes or no, Young Master Jiang, be clear with your answers,” Lan Qiren paused, holding the teapot over the cup, waiting. 

“Yes, please, sir, thank you, Master Lan,” he sat down quickly, still nervous, but looking just a touch more relaxed.

“What would you like to speak about, Young Master Jiang?” he asked, pouring the tea smoothly and turning his gaze on the young man. 

“It’s really okay to speak to you about anything, Master Lan? Wei Wuxian said he talks to you about everything that pops into his head, but he’s made fun of me before,” he said, placing his fingers around the tea cup. 

“Feel free to speak your mind, Young Master Jiang,” Lan Qiren took a sip of the tea. “Wei Wuxian comes to my office every afternoon to talk about whatever currently captures his fancy and Nie Huaisang comes to me whenever he wishes to ‘not gossip but share information’,” he said, watching as amusement lit up the young man’s face, and the furrow in his brow finally eased.

“And whatever I speak about will not reach the ears of others?” he asked, still shy, hands still tense around the tea cup.

“Do I look like someone who shares secrets that are not mine to keep, Young Master Jiang? Put yourself at ease,” he said, waving a hand so the door would slide shut. He then put up a silencing talisman. “There, Young Master Jiang, now curious ears shall not eavesdrop. What do you wish to tell me?”

“...From what you’ve observed, Master Lan, am I so disappointing an heir?” he cleared his throat, averting his gaze, and truly, how many times would Lan Qiren’s heart ache for these young disciples with their cold parents?

“I have not been observing you so closely to make such a judgement, Young Master Jiang,” Lan Qiren began, “but personally, I would be quite proud to have such a bright and diligent young man as my heir.”

“Truly, Master Lan..?” Young Master Jiang finally looked up at him, those large eyes shimmering, filled with hope and sadness. He looked like Jiang Fengmian in his youth.

“There is no lying in the Cloud Recesses, Young Master Jiang,” Lan Qiren tilted his head, gazing at the boy evenly. “You do well in class, you pay attention during lectures, you abide by the Wall of Discipline, you help others in need, you mind your own business. You have a temper, yes,” he cocked his head, and the boy flushed a bit in embarrassment, “but it is an anger that comes from youth, inexperience, and bloodline.

“You ask me this because of your own parents’ judgements, I assume, Young Master Jiang,” Lan Qiren asked, eyes soft. 

“I... wish to be a good heir, a good son. I do my best, but my father pays me no attention and my mother berates me no matter what I do,” he swallowed, back ramrod straight, his head down. “Wei Wuxian is not to blame, and I know that. But Father always praises him, defends him, favors him, and Mother compares me to him, and I... I’m lost, Master Lan,” he sniffed, his shoulders quivering. “I don’t know what to do,” he looked up, and he looked like a child, scared and alone, and Master Lan inwardly sighed, for he was about to adopt yet another ward in his mind.

“We cannot choose our parents, Young Master Jiang, but we can choose whom we go to for support and comfort,” Lan Qiren spoke up. “I have heard your elder sister is kind, just, and fair, yes?”

“Yes, jiejie is the best sister anyone could ask for,” the boy smiled for the first time since he entered the room.

“And you trust Wei Wuxian, yes?” 

“... Yes,” he admitted, somewhat embarrassed. “He likes to tease and cause trouble, but Wei Wuxian always defends me from my parents, and he shoulders my temper when he doesn’t deserve it. I trust him.”

“You have good siblings to find sanctuary in, and now you have Gusu Lan, Young Master Jiang,” Lan Qiren said, reaching out and placing a hand on Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder. “If you need advice, a sympathetic ear, or a paternal word, you may always seek me out.”

“Really?” Jiang Wanyin looked up at him. 

“I have already taken, Xichen, Wangji, Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang, and Wei Wuxian under my wing, Young Master Jiang, one more disciple would not ruffle my feathers,” Lan Qiren gave him a smile, and the boy smiled back, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “If there is something I do not like to see, it is a child in tears because they feel lost.”

“Thank you, Master Lan,” the Jiang heir let out a soft laugh, finally crying, and Lan Qiren gave his shoulder a final squeeze and sat with the boy as he cried his heart out. 

It wasn’t long after that that Young Master Jin Zixuan paid him a visit. 

A month had passed since Jiang Wanyin had come to him for advice, and Lan Qiren found most of his free time taken up by the young disciples he had decided to care for. He wanted to be slightly annoyed at all the attention, but he was elated to know that they trusted him enough to come to him. 

Xichen and Wangji had both taken up more duties to free up Lan Qiren’s time so he could set out time everyday to act as a mentor to other disciples. Wei Wuxian had also tried to help him with lectures, organizing them so that students his age would find more interest in taking in the information. Jiang Wanyin had gone out of his way to lecture students who broke the rules so Lan Qiren would not have to. 

Nie Huaisang had kept him up-to-date on the others, how Wei Wuxian had gotten through the stoic facade of his younger nephew, how Wangji had softer expressions nowadays, and how Jiang Wanyin was far less tense than he used to be.

Even Nie Mingjue had come by every once and a while in his rare moments of freedom, checking on his younger brother, bringing gifts like hair pieces and flutes for Xichen and brushes and guqin strings for Wangji. He even brought a new tea set for Lan Qiren. 

When Lan Qiren tried to reject the gift, stating it was not right for a younger disciple to buy a gift for an elder, Nie Mingjue simply quirked an eyebrow, grinned that wild smile that reminded Lan Qiren so much of his father, and said, “Rather than a gift from a junior to a senior, think of it as a gift from a man to his uncle, Master Lan.”

Lan Qiren sputtered for a moment, though feeling a warmth of contentment at the sentiment, but he recovered easily.

“Do you know what gift you could give me, Mingjue, that would make me happy?” he inquired, and the young man cocked his head in curiosity. 

“What would that be, sir?” he asked, earnest, always so serious. 

“If you asked me for Xichen’s hand, Mingjue, I would be very happy indeed,” Lan Qiren smiled and very nearly laughed at how quickly the Nie leader’s face burned crimson. 

“Master Lan, I-I, we, you... erm,” he stood abruptly. “I should check on A-Sang,” he excused himself clumsily, almost running out the door. 

Lan Qiren allowed himself to chuckle, glancing out the window to see that by some stroke of fate, Mingjue had run straight into Xichen. 

Any weaker man would’ve been completely bowled over by the massive Nie leader, but Xichen was as strong as any disciple of his generation, so he simply put his hands out, grabbing Mingjue by the forearms and halting his momentum as easily as if he had brushed a leaf out of the man’s hair.

“Is everything all right, Mingjue?” his nephew asked softly, the faint line of concern in his brow as he looked up at the tallest cultivator of the time. 

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine, Xichen,” the man breathed softly, looking at ease immediately upon Xichen’s touch. 

“Is it yes or no then, Mingjue?” Xichen laughed brightly, and the sound of it warmed Lan Qiren’s heart. 

“As long as you’re around, Xichen, all is well,” Mingjue smiled back, turning his arms around so he could grip Xichen’s arms, and the elder heir of Lan’s ears turned pink. 

If Lan Qiren were a more impulsive man, he would’ve yelled something out the window, like, “At this rate, Wangji will get married first, Xichen!” or “Mingjue, if you don’t kiss my nephew right now, our alliance is over!” 

Instead, he took a deep breath and a long sip of tea. Perhaps he could tell Nie Huaisang to interfere on his brother’s behalf. Watching the two tiptoe around each other for years was going to drive him to an early qi deviation. 

“Master Lan.”

Lan Qiren looked up to see the golden young heir of Jin lingering in the doorway. He had heard plenty about the young master from Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin, both of whom had quite a negative opinion about the heir for denying their sister. 

The head of Lan himself had few opinions about the boy. He was a good student, he was an elegant person, refined, polite enough, if not a bit spoiled, but that was nothing Lan Qiren would hold against the heir.

He would’ve been more surprised if the heir to the wealthy Jin sect were humble and modest. 

“Young Master Jin, how may I help you?” he asked, placing his tea cup down.

“Young Master Nie told me I could come to you if I were in need of advice, and Wei Wuxian and Young Master Jiang have been considerably kinder to me as of late, no doubt due to your influence,” he bowed his head. “I would like to speak with you, Master Lan.”

“Of course, sit,” he waved his hand. “What are your qualms, Young Master Jin?”

“Master Lan, I have heard many things of your nature, and I can be sure that you won’t tell anyone of what I’ll disclose, right?” he sat down, eyes straightforward and honest, probably not meaning to sound on the rude side. 

“No gossiping in the Cloud Recesses, Young Master Jin,” Lan Qiren nodded his head. “You may speak your heart’s troubles without worry.”

“Thank you, Master Lan,” the Jin heir bowed his head, and then his entire facade fell away. He went from aloof and dignified young heir to the wealthiest sect in the land to a boy with tired eyes, looking older than he should have; and, truly, why were the boys of this generation so tired before they even hit adulthood? 

“How do I learn to trust people, Master Lan?” he asked, sounding exhausted, weariness in his shoulders. At Lan Qiren’s surprised silence, he continued to speak. 

“Sycophants approach me on a regular basis, trying to get on my good side, but I never know who I can trust. My father’s half-children appear out of nowhere, trying to kill me. My mother speaks often of my father’s inevitable death being a sign of good fortune, and I can never rest, Master Lan. I wish for peace, but I fear I cannot have it,” he said in a hollow tone, his eyes looking haunted. “What do I do, Master Lan?”

Lan Qiren sat back, stroking his beard, trying to think of how he could comfort this tired young man. He hummed softly and nodded, and the young master looked up at him, waiting. 

“Seek friendship in those who gain nothing from you, Young Master Jin,” Lan Qiren said thoughtfully. “Find those who care about you, those who wish for your well-being, and develop a relationship with them. 

“I am aware you have a rocky relationship with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, but they are both good young men. Perhaps you could consider a friendship with them, and if not them,” he continued upon seeing the look of faint disdain in the boy’s face, “Nie Huaisang is a good ally to have on your side, what with the political environment of Jin. Sect Leader Nie is just and fair, should you seek advice from someone without bias.

“Xichen and Wangji are also level-headed and kind young men, good people to have at your side, though I may be biased,” he ended wryly. “There are many people in this world who are trustworthy, Young Master Jin. You simply must seek them out.”

“I fear I lack social skills, Master Lan,” the Jin heir said softly, running his hands though his hair. “I fear the disciples of Jiang will not accept me. I have spurned Lady Jiang, after all.”

“May I ask why you spurned Lady Jiang, Young Master Jin?” Lan Qiren asked. “From what I have heard, she is of a kind heart and gentle nature. Surely, someone like that would be a breath of fresh air in Lanling,” he remarked and watched as the Jin heir’s face turned red in both shame and embarrassment. 

“...As I said, Master Lan, I lack social skills,” Jin Zixuan flushed, hiding his face in his hands. “Speak with political allies about financial distribution across Lanling? Fine, I can do that. Tell a woman I like her..? I’d rather go night-hunting on my own,” he sighed.

“Well, we all have our weaknesses,” Lan Qiren offered a small smile. “My elder brother was always the more social between us. I did not like speaking with others if I could avoid it,” he looked out the window where his nephew was still speaking with Nie Mingjue, sitting beneath a tree, tracing the calluses on the older man’s palm. Xichen gazed up at him, smiling, and the leader of Nie looked ready to pass out at the sight. 

“But you grew out of it, Master Lan,” Jin Zixuan prompted.

“I had to, when my brother went into seclusion,” Lan Qiren turned his gaze back to the young boy. “Circumstance forces change, does it not? Anyhow, if I can learn social graces, by all means, young master, so can you. I suggest apologizing to Lady Jiang.”

“How..?” the young master almost whined, looking completely ready to sprawl himself out on the table. 

“I’m afraid speaking to women is something I am still bad at, Young Master Jin,” Lan Qiren chuckled, giving the boy a small smile. “I suggest speaking with Nie Huaisang, or perhaps with Wei Wuxian or Jiang Wanyin for advice on how to apologize to their sister.”

“They will not help me, Master Lan,” he frowned, referring to the Jiang disciples. 

“If you are earnest and well-meaning, they will listen to you, Young Master Jin,” Lan Qiren assured, “though I cannot promise you they will not tease you afterwards.”

At the pout on Jin Zixuan’s face, Lan Qiren’s smile widened slightly. He reached out and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder in fondness. Seems he would adopt yet another ward beneath his wings. 

“The sign of someone being fond of you, Young Master Jin, is their willingness to tease you, do not take it to heart,” Lan Qiren nodded, and the young master gave him a smile, gathering himself, and he sat upright once again.

The expression on his face had become clearer, resolved. He bowed deeply and moved to leave, but Lan Qiren called out to him.

“If you have any more troubles, feel free to come to me, Young Master Jin,” he said. “And if Wei Wuxian or Jiang Wanyin give you any trouble, please tell me.”

“Master Lan,” Jin Zixuan smiled with a final bow and took his leave.

Lan Qiren sighed, glancing out the window again to see Xichen and Mingjue still sitting beneath the tree. He truly was about to shout out the window for them to either step forward in their relationship or to get out of his sight, but his voice died his throat when he saw Mingjue delicately cup Xichen’s jaw with his fingers, as if his nephew were made of porcelain. 

Lan Qiren watched as the leader of Nie leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Xichen’s lips. The master of Lan watched, holding his breath, for his nephew’s reaction. Xichen blinked in surprise, then --after a long moment-- he closed his eyes and kissed Mingjue back.

The stoic and steadfast leader of Gusu almost pumped his fists in the air in sheer excitement at the sight. Instead, he took a deep and fortifying breath, but excitement thrummed through his body. He was a patient man, of course, but even his patience would eventually wear thin. 

Lan Qiren watched as the two pulled away, matching looks of shy delight on their faces, and he smiled at the sight. Today was a good day. 


	6. Lan Qiren Gets Complaints from Other Parents, But He Doesn't Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren gets complaints from the other sect leaders, but he's not having it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter: suspiciously handsome Wen Ruohan

It was nearing the end of the summer lectures in Gusu when a discussion conference was called to be held in the Cloud Recesses, and Lan Qiren was irritable because of it. 

He didn’t dislike discussion conferences, per se, but he didn’t like having to listen to Jin Guangshan speak about, well, anything. He didn’t trust Wen Ruohan or his unreasonably pretty face. He didn’t mind Jiang Fengmian, but his opinion of the man had soured after getting to know Jiang Wanyin’s and Wei Wuxian’s troubles. 

Granted, he was always happy to see Nie Mingjue leading his sect as a capable young man filled with compassion and radiance; but, he disliked the way the other sects treated the young man, as if he were a musclehead who had no mind to lead a sect. Pah, Nie Mingjue was more thoughtful than the lot of them.

Nie Mingjue was the only one outside of Lan Qiren and Xichen who could read Wangji’s minute microexpressions after all (though Wei Wuxian was getting quite good at it). He doubted any single one of those haughty cultivators could understand his precious nephew. Heavens, he doubted they could even start a conversation with Wangji, much less understand him.

“You look stressed, Uncle,” Xichen’s soothing voice took him out of his thoughts. 

“I do not look forward to the Discussion Conference,” Lan Qiren stated frankly, and Xichen chuckled softly. 

“Would you like me to attend in your stead, Uncle?” Xichen asked, tilting his head, concerned in that mother hen way of his. 

“I will not have you stressed in my place, Xichen,” Lan Qiren smiled at his nephew. “You are still young, I shall have you stay that way.”

“You are too kind, Uncle,” Xichen bowed his head with a smile. 

“Uncle,” the aloof voice of Wangji spoke up from the doorway, and they both looked up to see him, both with a look of complete fondness. “Sect Leader Nie has arrived,” he reported with a nod, and neither he nor Lan Qiren missed the look of excitement that lit up Xichen’s face.

“Would you like to welcome him in, Xichen?” Lan Qiren offered, and his nephew beamed, leaving forthwith, like he was floating on a cloud. “Wangji, Wei Wuxian tells me that he, Jiang Wanyin, Nie Huaisang, and Jin Zixuan will all be going to Caiyi Town this afternoon.”

“Mn,” Wangji hummed, waiting for his uncle to elaborate. 

“Did you wish to go with them?” Lan Qiren asked, and he noticed the slight shift of Wangji’s shoulders, a sign of excitement, but he regained his calm immediately.

“Should stay with Uncle,” he shook his head minutely, once. 

“You should enjoy your youth, Wangji,” Lan Qiren waved his hand. “Go have fun in Caiyi. If you refuse,” he spoke up when he saw that his nephew was about to argue back, “I will call Wei Wuxian in here to drag you off anyway.”

Wangji pursed his lips slightly, a show of stubbornness, but his eyes softened, and he bowed in response. 

“Wangji thanks you, Uncle,” he said quietly, his pale eyes losing the sheen of frost they normally had, and he left. 

Lan Qiren smiled after him, that soft paternal fondness filling his chest yet again. He had never thought he would be something akin to a father in this lifetime, and he had somehow become a father to his nephews, not to mention five other young men who needed and sought a decent paternal role model in their lives. 

“Master Lan,” Nie Mingjue’s deep, booming voice filled the air as he walked into his office, Xichen at his side, and they were quite a cute picture, if Lan Qiren had something to say about it. 

“Mingjue,” Lan Qiren nodded his head. “Have you finally come to ask to be my nephew-in-law?” he inquired, as playfully as someone like him could be. 

“Master Lan!” Mingjue flushed.

“Uncle!” Xichen said simultaneously, equally embarrassed. 

“I am an old man, Xichen,” Lan Qiren bemoaned his fate. Perhaps Wei Wuxian had an influence on him after all. “What if I perish before I am granted with grandchildren? Whatever shall I do?” he sighed, and Mingjue burned an even brighter red, though Xichen looked like he might’ve started laughing. 

“Neither of us can give birth, Master Lan,” Mingjue covered his eyes, his cheeks and his ears scarlet, taking Lan Qiren earnestly as always. 

“There are plenty of children without parents living in the world right now, Mingjue, who would want a decent parent to take care of them, much less two perfectly capable cultivating fathers,” Lan Qiren clicked his tongue, teasing the two. 

“Uncle, please, no more,” Xichen covered the lower half of his face with his sleeve, averting his eyes, the tips of his ears a bright pink. 

“Ah, very well, very well,” Lan Qiren smiled, standing and ushering the two out towards the main halls of the Cloud Recesses. “We have time before the conference starts, go have fun, be young before you must be a leader again, Mingjue.”

“Thank you, Master Lan,” he bowed, a grateful smile on his face, his hand brushing against Xichen’s as he straightened. 

“Go on, Xichen,” the master of Lan waved, and Xichen bowed as well, his shoulder brushing against Mingjue’s as they walked away. 

He watched them walk away, watched the relaxed line of Mingjue’s shoulders as they spoke in soft tones, the soft radiance of his nephew as they rounded the corner. 

Lan Qiren had wondered briefly what it would’ve been like to fall in love. From what he had seen with his own brother with Madame Lan, he hadn’t wanted it. Not that passionate obsession that didn’t allow for logic or thought. But now he saw it in Xichen with Mingjue, and dim beginnings of it in Wangji with Wei Wuxian. 

He saw that love was soft and sweet, shy and gentle, as well as overwhelming, burning, blazing. It looked like an experience he would’ve liked to have at some point. However, unfortunately, none of the men of his generation were worth his time nor his affection, so he would simply go without. 

Out of all the men he knew, he too was attracted to the sunny strength of the late Nie sect leader, seemed he had a similarity with Xichen in his taste of men as well. Jiang Fengmian was handsome, of course, but he seemed to lack the qualities of a loving partner. Jin Guangshan was absolutely repulsive, and Wen Ruohan was --by all means attractive and aloof and intelligent-- but he was impossible to read (and this was coming from a man who was proud to be able to read Lan Wangji) and Lan Qiren didn’t trust those impassive eyes. Perhaps he was lucky to have never fallen in love.

Hours later, the Discussion Conference was slowly drawing to a close and Lan Qiren could not be happier about it. Nothing had gotten done and nothing of importance had gotten discussed. It felt like a true waste of time, and he could tell by the immensely frustrated expression on Mingjue’s face that he wasn’t alone in the sentiment. 

“Do we have any more topics we would like to speak of before ending this meeting?” Lan Qiren spoke up as conversations began drawing to a silence. 

“Actually, we do, Master Lan,” Jin Guangshan spoke up, Jiang Fengmian also gazing at him with a nod.

Mingjue and Wen Ruohan blinked in surprise, obviously unaware that the other sect leaders had something else to say. 

“And what would that be?” Lan Qiren stroked his beard, arching an eyebrow.

“I have heard that you have been speaking with my son,” Jin Guangshan said, resting his chin on his palm.

“And my heirs, Master Lan,” Jiang Fengmian added softly, brow furrowed. 

“What of it?” Lan Qiren asked, unimpressed, ignoring the interested look on Wen Ruohan’s face.

“Surely you understand your place, Master Lan?” Jin Guangshan purred, and Lan Qiren noted the vein throbbing in Mingjue’s temple. “What gives you the right to act as a father to Zixuan? Or Wei Wuxian or Jiang Wanyin?”

“What gives me the right you ask?” Lan Qiren grit his teeth, that long-forgotten anger returning to his throat, the same anger he felt towards his own brother for abandoning Xichen and Wangji all those years ago. “When your heirs approach me, seeking guidance, seeking support, seeking kindness, seeking compassion,” he hissed, standing up, the full force sending a full cold blast of qi across the room, blowing out the candles. 

Mingjue had a thrilled look on his face while Wen Ruohan watched calmly with those cold, narrow eyes. 

“When these young men come to me, seeking something that should have been given to them by their own parents, something they have been denied, when they come to me, looking like they hold all the burdens of the world on their shoulders, when they come to me almost pleading for someone to see them for who they are: children who want love and acceptance more than anything,” he continued, his eye twitching, his voice thundering, breaking at least five different rules, but Lan Qiren didn’t find that he cared upon seeing the terrorized look on the faces of Jin Guangshan and Jiang Fengmian. 

“When your sons come to me, looking for what you would never give them, then what would you have me do?” Lan Qiren finished his tirade, filled with both exhaustion and fury. “Unless you can answer me that, then this meeting is over,” he stated with finality, walking out without waiting for the answer he knew would not come. 

The second he left, Mingjue ran out after him; and though Lan Qiren wasn’t necessarily in the mood to speak with anyone, his temper tempered at the shining look in the younger man’s eyes.

“Master Lan, with all due respect, I almost gave you a round of applause after you left!” he barked out in laughter, a raucous and bright sound, like the sun shining in a clear sky. “I had heard from Xichen and A-Sang that you had begun acting as a mentor to everyone, but I hadn’t realized how far you had gone with it.

“Truly, you’re the last sect leader I trust,” Mingjue grinned, dipping into a bow. 

“I’m glad you approve, Mingjue,” Lan Qiren chuckled, tired. “I fear I am too irritable to speak with the lot of them right now, could you please call Xichen and ask him to be my stand-in for the rest of the night. I hate to put him in the position, but if I stay, I may do something I regret.”

“Xichen would be happy to help you, I’m sure, Master Lan,” Mingjue smiled, paused, then threw his arms around Lan Qiren in a bear hug, completely surprised by the action. “For what it’s worth, Master Lan, Huaisang and I are so grateful for what you’ve done for us, and I’m sure the other kids do too,” he said quietly. 

“Thank you for the kind words, Mingjue,” he placed a hand on the young leader’s broad back. “For you all to be happy, that is all I want,” he said simply as the taller man pulled away. “Now, go on. I shall retire for the night.”

“Have a good night, Master Lan,” Mingjue grinned, running off to find Xichen. 

Lan Qiren moved to retire to his quarters when he heard exuberant conversation and laughter, and he turned to see Wangji and the others returning from Caiyi Town. 

His nephew’s face remained the same cool and stoic expression as it always did, but he had a brightness to his eyes that Lan Qiren smiled to see. Wangji and Wei Wuxian almost appeared to be glued at the hip, Wei Wuxian laughing as brightly as always. Jiang Wanyin seemed to be bickering with Jin Zixuan about something, but it was a light-hearted bickering, the kind between friends, and Lan Qiren was relieved to see it. 

Huaisang followed along, laughing behind his fan, his eyes sparkling like stars. 

Lan Qiren may have made enemies that evening with his outburst, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret his decisions. He smiled to himself as he turned towards his quarters, then bumped into someone.

“Oh, pardon,” he looked up into the deep crimson eyes of Wen Ruohan. He couldn’t quite control his expression, and a quick scowl bolted across his face, which the Wen sect leader seemed to notice, an amused quirk to his lips.

“Master Lan, my apologies,” he bowed his head, eyes sly and playful. 

“Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren answered curtly, moving to walk around the man, but the taller man stopped him with a slender hand on his shoulder. 

“I quite liked your speech, Master Lan,” Wen Ruohan said softly, in a voice a tad too quiet, a voice that made someone listen harder to hear him. 

“Glad to hear it, excuse me,” Lan Qiren brushed his hand off and tried to move past him yet again, but Wen Ruohan easily took his hands, almost spinning him in some sort of dance, keeping him in place, in conversation, the moonlight illuminating the taller man’s profile. He was disgustingly handsome like this. 

“So cold, Master Lan,” Wen Ruohan chuckled softly, the sound coiling and thick, rushing down Lan Qiren’s spine. “Speak with me a little longer, hm?” he inquired, rubbing circles on the back of Lan Qiren’s hand with his thumb. 

“To what end, Sect Leader Wen?” Lan Qiren frowned, suspicious, batting the offending hand away. 

“I simply wish to know you better, Master Lan, what more reason do I need?” the man cocked his head, those maroon eyes clear and frosty. And interested.

“I do not trust you, Sect Leader Wen, so if you will allow me to take my leave,” Lan Qiren stated, easily escaping the man’s grip and walking away.

“Sweet dreams, Master Lan,” Wen Ruohan’s voice reached his ears as he turned down a corridor, a smile in his tone. 

Later in the night, Lan Qiren would find himself thinking about his senior’s cold expression but his inexplicably warm hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making Jiang Fengmian kind of a bad guy, but in my defense, he could stand to be a much better father


	7. Lan Qiren Watches his Nephews Fall in Love, and He Warms Up to Wen Ruohan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren wants to be a grandfather so badly, but he'll settle for having nephew-in-laws. Also, he has a late night visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Lan Qiren being a doting grandfather, but not yet ^v^

The following summer, Gusu holds another summer lecture and this time Wen Ruohan sends his disciples as well. 

Not his heirs as Lan Qiren soon learns, but children of his cousin or something of that nature. Normally, Lan Qiren would be curious as to why Wen Ruohan would send his niece and nephew instead of his sons, but from what the master of Lan heard about the heirs of Wen, he was more than happy those two would not be visiting his home. 

The brother and sister who came to his home were really as different as the Nie brothers. Wen Qing was the elder sister, a young doctor, intimidating, upright, with large eyes that were both clear and bright as well as sharp and piercing. Wen Ning was the younger brother, soft, sweet, timid, shy, too nervous to look people in the eye, but kind. 

“My uncle sends his regards, Master Lan, and wishes you well and hopes he will see you again,” Wen Qing had said after she had given her greetings.

“Sect Leader Wen?” Lan Qiren asked, unable to mask the irritation on his face, and the Wen disciple noticed, blatant amusement in her eyes.

“My uncle seems quite taken with you, Master Lan,” she said with a polite nod. “I would ask you to correspond with him.”

“Hm, and if I don’t, Miss Wen?” Lan Qiren frowned at the thought of Wen Ruohan’s ‘takenness’ with him. 

“Then I’m afraid he will tell me of his interest and to pass it along to you, Master Lan, and I love my uncle, but I do not wish to know his romantic fantasies,” she answered easily, politely ignoring the sputtered embarrassment on the man’s face. “Well then, I shall take my leave,” she bowed, leaving the room, her brother trailing behind her, a shy smile on his face, mumbling, “Good day, Master Lan,” as he left.

Lan Qiren sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He didn’t necessarily mind the attention from the enigmatic Wen sect leader, but he did mind that the man was suspicious. He had known Wen Ruohan for his entire adult life, and he had never seen the man emote outside his amused smiles and expressionless thoughtfulness. 

As a Lan, he was used to sect elders being expressionless and aloof, without strong emotions or passions. There was something different about Wen Ruohan though. All his expressions, his movements, his words, they all felt practiced, like a show. His aloofness felt like a facade, and it bothered Lan Qiren everytime they interacted. 

Lan Qiren sighed. It would do no good to worry about the man now. He had classes to attend to, students to teach.

“Uncle Lan!”

Lan Qiren sighed again, but this time, a sigh of fond exasperation and not sheer confusion. He turned just as Huaisang darted straight into him, a hard impact, but the young man was still slight and slim, so it felt more like a puppy running into his arms than a young adult. 

“Hello, Huaisang,” he greeted, placing a hand on the boy’s head. “And what has gotten you so energetic this early in the day? Normally, you and Wei Wuxian are dozing by a riverbank around this time.”

“I’m only telling you this, Uncle Lan, because I know you can keep a secret,” Huaisang spoke up in a soft voice, fan flicked out before his face, a coy but excited look in his big eyes. He leaned forward, and so did Lan Qiren to hear what the boy wanted to say. “Da-ge is going to ask Xichen-ge for his hand!” he whispered in sheer excitement, and Lan Qiren’s heart began to sing.

“No lying in the Cloud Recesses, Huaisang,” he looked down at the boy sternly, but he could see that genuine curve to Huaisang’s eyes that meant he spoke the truth. “Truly?” Lan Qiren smiled, the widest he had smiled in years.

“You cannot tell anyone, Uncle Lan!” Huaisang shushed him, playfully patting the man’s arm. “I was simply too excited to keep it a secret any longer, but you must not tell anyone!” he hissed with a smile. 

“I promise, Huaisang,” he chuckled. “Thank you for telling me, I’ll be sure to prepare everything for whenever the wedding happens.”

“I knew I could count on you, Uncle Lan!” the boy laughed, bouncing back outside, fanning himself in contentment. 

Lan Qiren smiled as he sat at his desk, gazing up at the ceiling in thought. The thought of Xichen in brilliant crimson red, smiling until it hurt, being married to Mingjue, equally red and equally happy, brought him so much joy he felt fit to burst. But, he sighed for the third time, knowing how Mingjue was, he wasn’t quite sure how long it would take for the Nie leader to finally ask Xichen to marry him. 

If it took Mingjue longer than a two-week period to gather the courage to ask Xichen, Lan Qiren would personally fly all the way to Qinghe, grab Mingjue by his collar, then fly all the way back and make the boy ask his nephew that minute. 

“Master Lan!”

Ah, the other young man who filled Gusu Lan with brilliant exuberance. 

“Yes, Wei Wuxian, how can I help you?” he asked, turning to see the boy breeze in. 

“I have to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get upset, Master Lan,” Wei Wuxian said, kneeling in front of the master’s desk, sprawling his upper body over the papers, big doe-like eyes staring up at him. 

“When have I ever gotten upset with you, Wei Wuxian?” he asked.

“IfIaskedLanZhantomarrymewouldyoubeokaywiththat?” Wei Wuxian asked in one hurried breath, and it took Lan Qiren a moment to figure out what he had just said. 

“You want to marry Wangji?” Lan Qiren blinked, a second balloon of joy filling his chest.

“I know we’re not adults yet, and I don’t have much to offer, Master Lan,” Wei Wuxian sat up, hands in his lap, eyes downcast, “but I love Lan Zhan,” he smiled a breathtaking and enamored smile. “And he loves me too...”

“You don’t have much to offer?” Lan Qiren gazed at the boy in disbelief, used to his pride and his confidence, not to this rare display of vulnerability and insecurity. “Wei Wuxian, you are one of my brightest pupils, and I have never seen Wangji smile so much in my life until he met you.

“I would be honored to have you as a nephew-in-law, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren said kindly and smiled at the look of relief that flooded the boy’s face. “Once you two are of age,” he added sternly as Wei Wuxian leapt across the desk to hug him.

“Yes, yes, yes, anything you say, Uncle!” he chirped, his embrace surprisingly strong considering his lithe frame. “Thank you,” he whispered, then pulled back, eyes glittering like stars. “Should I go tell Lan Zhan the news? Am I allowed? Should I wait til I’m of age?” he asked in rapid succession. 

“I doubt you could wait to tell Wangji, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren arched an eyebrow, stroking his beard. “But you will both wait until you are both of age. I will not have the other elders of Lan complain about this union. And be sure to tell Jiang Fengmian of your intentions and of my blessings.”

“Yes, I will, to all those things, right away, Uncle!” he jumped up and darted out, calling, “Thank you, Uncle!” as he did so.

Lan Qiren had to physically calm down lest he start writing up invitations to the other sects for the weddings the Cloud Recesses would be sure to hold. He sat back, trying to plan two weddings at once. He would’ve liked a double wedding, that would mean making Mingjue and Xichen wait for Wangji and Wuxian to be of age, which wouldn’t be for another couple years. Granted, with the courtship that had developed between Mingjue and Xichen, they wouldn't get married for a couple years anyway.

A beautiful scarlet and gold wedding, though the colors did conjure up the thought of the Wens and the Jins, which made Lan Qiren immediately uncomfortable. He knew he would have to invite both sects to the weddings out of sheer courtesy, but the idea of Jin Guangshan ogling the guests made him excessively angry. The thought of Wen Ruohan made him, well, made him feel things.

A wedding, he pondered. His brother had never gotten the spectacle of a wedding, just rushed rites, loneliness. Lan Qiren promised himself that his nephews would get the wedding his brother never did, and perhaps the wedding that he himself would never have. 

A week had passed and Xichen hadn’t come to speak to him about anything concerning Mingjue, and the Nie leader himself had not come to call. Lan Qiren figured Mingjue was busy as the young leader of Qinghe, so he didn’t want to rush the poor boy, but he was agitated in wait. 

It was late one evening when he had a visitor, not Mingjue like he had hoped, but a different sect leader. 

Lan Qiren was readying himself for sleep, blowing out his candles, placing his outer robe on his bedside table, neatly folded, when a faint knock sounded at his quarters. He looked up in surprise, but not concern. He had plenty of disciples who had come to him at all hours of night and day, asking for advice or informing him of goings-on that needed his input. 

“Yes?” he opened his door to see fucking Wen Ruohan before him. “Wha-” he stepped back in both surprise and alarm. 

“Are you trying to seduce me, answering the door like this, Master Lan?” Wen Ruohan asked in that too-soft voice of his, that amused smile on his face, though he looked tired. 

“What in the world brings you all the way here at this hour, Wen Ruohan, are you out of your mind?” Lan Qiren demanded quietly, trying not to alert anyone nearby. “Come in before someone sees you!” he jerked the man into his room, closing the door immediately.

“Hoh? Does Master Lan want me so badly? I’m flattered,” the taller man chuckled. 

“Shameless,” Lan Qiren slipped his outer robes back on. “Why are you here?”

“I was in the area and wished to see my favorite Lan,” Wen Ruohan answered smoothly, sitting opposite Lan Qiren who had sat down at the table in the center of the room, preparing tea. 

“Bah, stop lying to me, Sect Leader Wen, it is far too late and I too tired,” he sighed, pouring a cup for Wen Ruohan and pushing it towards the man.

“You have my gratitude, Master Lan,” he answered quietly, taking the tea and slow sip, the steam curling up his face, quite the enticing picture, that Lan Qiren immediately banished from his thoughts. 

“Are you going to answer me, Sect Leader Wen, or do I have to toss you out of my private quarters?” Lan Qiren crossed his arms. 

“As much as I’d love to have you manhandle me, Master Lan, I’ll have to pass tonight,” the man chuckled. “Please give me a moment to gather my thoughts. I shall answer for myself soon enough.”

Bristling at the innuendo, Lan Qiren remained silent, waiting for the sect leader to speak. He watched the man before him, noticing just how tired he really looked. The slope of his broad shoulders was lower than usual, faint shadows beneath those long eyes, his pale skin slightly paler. What could’ve possibly gotten the unflappable man so weary?

“If you keep gazing at me like that, Master Lan, you’ll burn a hole straight through my face,” he spoke up, smiling, those eyes flickering up to meet Lan Qiren’s.

“If you remain silent, I will actually burn a hole in your face,” he answered, unimpressed, and Wen Ruohan laughed, a sound unfamiliar to Lan Qiren. 

It wasn’t like his wry chuckles, but bright, carefree. Young. Had the man ever sounded like that in his entire life, Lan Qiren wondered. 

“You are the only one who speaks to me in such a manner, Qiren,” the Wen sect leader said, reaching out and placing his hand over Lan Qiren’s, the heat of his skin almost searing. “I quite like it.”

“Masochist,” Lan Qiren said, ignoring the flush of heat tipping his ears. 

“Hm, perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said, his smile taking a turn to the mischievous for a moment, as he took his hand away, which Lan Qiren both appreciated and disliked. “Hm... I heard you’ve been acting as advisor for the young heirs these days, Master Lan.”

“...And..?” 

“I find myself in need of a sympathetic ear, Master Lan,” he said, those eyes unmoving from Lan Qiren’s face. “Would you lend me a shoulder to cry on?” he tacked on coyly, though he looked more sincere than the Lan had ever seen him. 

“It would be remiss of me to listen to my juniors and not my contemporaries, would it not, Sect Leader Wen?” Lan Qiren cocked his head, and a glimpse of surprise passed over the older man’s handsome face and smoothed into contentment. 

“How kind Master Lan is,” Wen Ruohan bowed his head, then shifted, placing his hands in his lap, gazing out the window, eyes glazing over in thought. “I am... tired, Master Lan.

“My sect is large and powerful, and the other elders of the sect keep demanding more. More land, more disciples, more power. But the sect as it is now is already far beyond me to keep track of without having to deal with more. Everyone keeps demanding more, my advisors, my sons, but nobody else wishes to step up and help maintain the reaches of our sect. I’m content trying to keep what we have organized, but these voices of dissent are going to drive me mad. Simply put,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair, which Lan Qiren noticed was loose from any ornaments or ties, “I’m tired, Qiren.”

Lan Qiren gazed at him, a bit surprised that the man had decided to tell him all this. They had never been particularly close, but the Lan had to take it all into account. Wen Ruohan didn’t seem to have anyone close to him, so he didn’t seem to have anyone else to speak to of his problems. The only person Lan Qiren had even seen him look remotely friendly with was Wen Zhuliu, who was more of a silent bodyguard than a companion. 

“And you’ve told your advisors and your sons this?” Lan Qiren asked, and the Wen leader laughed bitterly. 

“I have, many times, but my words always fall on deaf ears,” he said, placing his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm, the light of the moon illuminating him. “It seems my capability undermines my complaints.”

“Hmph,” Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re the sect leader, Wen Ruohan. Normally, I would say listen to your advisors and act diplomatically, but can you not do as you please and ignore your selfish cohort?” he suggested, wondering if he should suggest an act of selfish individualism to a man in charge of the most powerful sect of them all.

Wen Ruohan blinked owlishly at him, shocked silent in disbelief, then he began laughing. Not just a short breath of laugher, but peals of laughter, filling Lan Qiren’s quarters. Almost loud enough where Lan Qiren wanted to put up a silencing talisman, but it was such a nice sound, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. 

Instead, he spent a somewhat embarrassing amount of time simply staring at the man.

“That is the last thing I expected you to say, Master Lan,” Wen Ruohan said, gasping for breath as the laughter finally died down. “I am glad I came tonight,” he said, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Hmph, you and your honeyed words,” Lan Qiren shook his sleeves out, flinching slightly as Wen Ruohan took his hands, interlocking their fingers together. 

“Do you not like honey, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan asked, the tiredness of his eyes fading back into the amused coyness that the Lan master was used to and which he had begrudgingly missed.

“It is too sweet for my taste,” Lan Qiren flushed.

“What tastes do you like then, Qiren?” he purred playfully, the intimate use of his name driving Lan Qiren up a wall, the heat of the taller man’s skin seeping into his palms and up his arms. “Bitter? Savory? Spicy?” he suggested with a quirked eyebrow, and Lan Qiren couldn’t stop the laugh that passed his lips.

“You are ridiculous,” he said, a smile coming unbidden to his face, and Wen Ruohan’s expression suddenly melted into something soft and vulnerable, and Lan Qiren’s voice died in his throat. 

“You’ve never smiled in front of me before, Qiren, I’m honored,” he said, his eyes lingering on Lan Qiren’s lips.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, enough,” the Lan sighed, trying to wrench his hands out of the taller man’s grip, but Wen Ruohan didn’t release him. 

“I’ve taken advantage of your patience, Master Lan, I’ll take my leave,” he whispered softly, pulling Lan Qiren’s hands forward and pressing a chaste kiss on his knuckles.

Before Lan Qiren could protest, Wen Ruohan let him go, standing swiftly and gracefully, bowing as he left without another word. 

He belatedly realized that the spiced scent of cinnamon and cedarwood that filled his quarters belonged to Wen Ruohan, and it would be a scent that lingered through the night, in his dreams, and into the morning.

The entirety of the morning, Lan Qiren was thrumming in irritation. He had no idea why his robes smelled of Wen Ruohan. The man had left before he fell asleep, so unless the man came in and somehow perfumed his clothing, he had no idea why the scent lingered so. 

Distracted by his clothing, Lan Qiren rounded a corner and almost bumped into a disciple. He began to apologize when the disciple immediately bowed low, rambling off apologies, sounding panicked at the thought of running into the head of Lan. Said head of Lan moved to reassure the disciple when he saw that it was Wen Ning.

“Young Master Wen, please raise your head, I was at fault,” he said as softly as he could, raising the boy out of his too-low bow. 

“Ah, my deep apologies regardless, Master Lan,” he said, his voice stumbling slightly, and Lan Qiren could’ve laughed at the difference between this boy and his smooth as silk uncle. 

Wen Ning blinked in confusion, looking at him with big doe-like eyes.

“Yes, Young Master Wen?”

“No, I, uh, just... d-did my uncle come by?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Why do you ask?” Lan Qiren inquired, hiding his vibrating nervousness well. 

“Um, it just... he smells like this, so I, uhm...” Wen Ning wrung his hands, big eyes soft and anxious. “Never mind, I should get going,” he bowed his head, excusing himself. 

Lan Qiren stared after him, ignoring the heat that crept up to his ears, deciding to head immediately to the Cold Springs to wash any scent of Wen Ruohan off his body, then return to his quarters to burn his robes. 

He had decided against burning his clothing, seeing as he didn’t want to explain himself to anyone who saw him; but the thought of doing so completely fled his mind that afternoon when Xichen came to him with surprising news.

“Uncle,” Xichen floated towards him with a look of urgency in his light eyes. 

“Xichen,” Lan Qiren greeted, hoping he was coming to speak about engagement plans, but there was a worried crease in his nephew’s brow; so either he wasn’t coming to talk bout marriage after all, or Mingjue did something that caused him to worry, which Lan Qiren would definitely hunt the boy down and punish him for. “What is wrong?”

“Have you heard the news, Uncle? Sect Leader Wen has gone missing,” he said, concerned, his hands on his uncle’s arms. 

“Missing? Pardon?” Lan Qiren gawked at his nephew. “He was just here, how could he have--?” he mumbled, realizing what he just said. 

“Sect Leader Wen was here, Uncle?” Xichen’s worry turned to straight confusion. 

“He... I... well, yes. He had problems he had wished to share,” Lan Qiren tried not to sound so flushed and embarrassed, but just as he knew his nephews, they knew him. 

“Ah... I was not aware you two were so close, Uncle,” Xichen said, obviously trying to fight the smile off his face. 

“We are not,” he argued, knowing his ears were burning pink. “He simply likes to bother me.”

“With all due respect, Uncle, that is how Wuxian’s and Wangji’s relationship began,” Xichen stopped trying to stop the smile on his face. “We have received news that Sect Leader Wen was not found in his quarters this morning. He left a note saying ‘I’m safe. Leave me be for a moment.’”

Lan Qiren bristled. Did Wen Ruohan just up and leave his position? He didn’t expect the man to just abandon his post and scare everyone. He sighed, rubbing his temples, but before he could explain anything to his nephew, they both felt a gust of wind descend upon them and they looked to see Nie Mingjue, landing beside them, looking somewhat disheveled and hurried.

“Mingjue, what’s wrong?” Xichen turned, reaching out for the leader of Nie who in turn immediately bounding Xichen up in his strong arms, whirling him around, burying his nose in the Lan heir’s hair. “Mingjue?”

“Xichen, I spent the last week trying to think of a romantic way to do this, but I couldn’t think of a single thing good enough for you,” Mingjue said, pulling back just far enough so he could look the Lan in the eyes. “So, would you do me the honor of marrying me?” he whispered softly, stroking Xichen’s cheek with his thumb.

Lan Qiren had the sheer delight of seeing Xichen’s face light up like the sun, and he saw his nephew’s face illuminate with the brightest smile Lan Qiren had ever seen on the young man’s face. Xichen bit his lip, eyes tearing up, then whispered, “yes,” repeatedly, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening, looping his arms around Mingjue’s shoulders and peppering kisses on the man’s lips. 

Mingjue looked completely relieved as he kissed Xichen back, his arms wrapping around the Lan’s waist, holding them completely against one another. Lan Qiren hummed softly, trying to catch their attention, but the two were in a world all their own. 

When Xichen’s hands dipped a little too close to Mingjue’s belt, Lan Qiren loudly cleared his throat, and his nephew and nephew-in-law-to-be jerked away from each other, remembering where they were. 

“Oh, Uncle,” Xichen flushed, his cheeks and his lips red.

“Master Lan, I know I should’ve asked you first, but Huaisang said it was okay since he already told you, but I should’ve done it myself, and I’m so sorry but I will take care of Xichen until the day I die, I completely promise you--” Mingjue rambled off, getting on his knees to bow to Lan Qiren.

“Enough, enough, Mingjue,” Lan Qiren chuckled, kneeling down to lift Mingjue back to a standing position. “If I didn’t wish for you two to be wed, then why have I teased you about grandchildren all this time?” he arched an eyebrow and was blessed with a wide grin on the young man’s face. 

“Thank you, Master Lan,” he said softly, his eyes alight.

“Why don’t you call me ‘Uncle’?” Lan Qiren offered. “Huaisang has been doing so for years now. Seems he was already aware of all this.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Mingjue chuckled, wrapping his arms around Lan Qiren and lifting him up straight off the ground.

“Mingjue,” Xichen laughed admonishingly.

“It is all right, Xichen,” Lan Qiren chuckled as the massive mountain of a man set him down. “It isn’t as if you or Wangji embrace me and lift me up like a child, so I shall take the affection where I can,” he stated softly. 

“Is that what Uncle wishes us to do?”

The trio started slightly, turning to see Wangji standing off to the side, Wei Wuxian standing right behind him, resting his chin on the younger Lan’s shoulder, his big gray eyes sparkling in restrained delight. 

“Wangji,” the three older men all greeted in surprise, then all greeted Wei Wuxian.

“Does Uncle wish for Xiongzhang or I to be like Mingjue-ge?” Wanji inquired, holding his arms out as if to lift Lan Qiren. His face was completely serious, but all four other men could see the faint quirk to his lips.

“Lan Zhaaaannn, I didn’t even know you could joke!” Wei Wuxian burst into peals of bright laughter. 

“Mn,” Wangji nodded his head, then looked at both Xichen and Mingjue. “Congratulations on your engagement, Xiongzhang,” he bowed his head, the equivalent of a smile on his face. “Wangji is happy for you.”

“Wangji,” Xichen beamed, reaching out and hugging his brother, a pleased look of embarrassment on the younger Lan’s face.

Wangji gave Mingjue a stern look, and the older man nodded earnestly.

“I will never hurt your brother, don’t worry, Wangji,” Mingjue said, and Wangji nodded once, then reaching out to the leader of Nie.

Mingjue grinned then wrapped both Lans up in his arms, swinging them around in delight. He turned to Lan Qiren and Wei Wuxian, arms open though both were occupied with the Lan heirs. Wei Wuxian darted immediately into the man’s open arms, and all four young men turned to look at Lan Qiren, all with pleading eyes. 

He chuckled softly, walking into the embrace, and Nie Mingjue easily lifted them all up, hugging them and laughing brightly, the sound echoing all through the Cloud Recesses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when I'll be able to update next, I have writer's block, sorryyyyy T^T


	8. Lan Qiren Tries to Plan a Wedding and Has an Unexpected Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren tries to plan the wedding, but distractions keep popping up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten so many lovely comments which helped push past my writer's block, thank you so much, everyone <3 
> 
> I know canonically Wen Ruohan led to the death of the previous Nie sect leader which is why Nie Mingjue hates him so much, but in this fic, the Nie sect leader got injured on a night hunt and died of his wounds  
> I don't think I could make Wen Ruohan a redeemable character if he killed off Da-ge's father

After Wangji finally managed to tear his brother away from Mingjue so the young sect leader could return back to work in Qinghe, Lan Qiren settled down in his office with Xichen to organize a wedding ceremony. 

They wrote invitations for the appropriate people, figured what kind of dishes to serve at the ceremony, where to get the clothing made. Lan Qiren was going to have to correspond with Nie Mingjue about when to have a wedding that year, or if the two wanted to hold it off for the moment. 

The next couple of weeks passed, filled with work and responsibilities. In all the free time Lan Qiren managed to open up to plan for the wedding, he got pulled away to work on something else. 

Both Lans got distracted as the days went on, with classes and disciples coming and going with their problems, from Jiang Wanyin reporting of several students caught bullying someone in Caiyi to Jin Zixuan coming to be punished for punching a disciple for speaking ill of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s relationship (both of whom Lan Qiren secretly praised and rewarded). 

In the back of his mind, Lan Qiren found himself wondering about Wen Ruohan. Not that he cared about the man, of course not, that would be ridiculous. But the Wen sect had been eerily quiet after their sect leader’s sudden disappearance. Mingjue had been worried, but perfectly capable in guarding his borders. 

Before the head of Gusu Lan could even think about the wedding again, night had already fallen. He sighed, placing his work aside for the morning, and prepared himself for bed. However, before he would finally sleep, someone knocked at his door. He sighed, then turned to answer.

“Yes?” he slid open the door to see Wei Wuxian looking up at him with big worried eyes. “Wei Wuxian? What is it?”

“I’ve come to apologize, Uncle Lan,” the boy bowed immediately, moving to kneel in a kowtow, but Lan Qiren stopped him.

“Hold on, what has happened, Wei Wuxian?” he asked, completely confounded as to why the young man was acting this way.

“I sent a letter to Uncle Jiang about getting married to Lan Zhan,” he said, brow furrowed, his fingers wrenching in his robes, “because I wanted to ask his permission and blessing, of course; but, I got a response from Madame Yu, and she says she’ll be coming tomorrow morning to talk me out of it.”

“...Why?” the headmaster of Gusu’s eyes narrowed, trying to keep his temper so he wouldn’t scare the already-anxious boy. 

“She... she says I’ll only bring trouble to Gusu if I marry into the Lan family,” he said in a small voice, looking down, eyes glassy. 

“Oh, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren sighed quietly, then pulled him into a tight hug, and he could feel the boy’s surprised gasp. “Have we ever made you feel that way? That you bring us trouble?” he asked softly. 

“N-No, of course not,” he shook his head against Lan Qiren’s chest. 

“Then let your heart be at ease, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren soothed. “I’ve never seen Wangji so happy in his entire life. We are honored to have you in our family,” he drew back, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears that had fallen from Wei Wuxian’s big eyes. “Aren’t we, Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian spun around to see the Second Jade of Lan gazing at him evenly, though the gold of his eyes were darker in emotion. 

“Lan Zhan, what’re you doing here?” Wei Wuxian rubbed at his eyes.

“Wei Ying was gone. Went looking,” he answered softly, walking forward, touching his fingers to Wei Wuxian’s face. “Who hurt you?” he asked, and Lan Qiren felt the air drop to freezing temperatures. 

“Eh? No one, no one, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian smiled. 

“No lying in Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji said, kind but firm. _ Really _ , Lan Qiren hid a bittersweet smile, _ he’s just like his father _ . 

“Shall I tell him, Wei Wuxian, or will you?” Lan Qiren cleared his throat, and Wei Wuxian looked between both Lans and sighed dramatically. 

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian reached out to hold Lan Wangji’s hands, and the young man’s ears flushed pink at the touch. “Madame Yu just sent me a letter, it’s not a big deal! Isn’t it too late for you to be awake anyway? Let’s head back! I’ve bothered your uncle enough--”

“How do you feel about Wei Wuxian joining our family, Wangji?” Lan Qiren interrupted, breaking a rule himself and making a mental note to punish himself for it later. 

“Too happy for words,” his nephew answered honestly and immediately, with an earnestness that only a Lan was capable of. 

“That’s that, Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren smiled as Wei Wuxian began to tear up again, though he radiated happiness and relief. “I shall speak with Madame Yu when she comes tomorrow. You will not have to see her if you do not want to.”

“She is still my guardian, Uncle Lan, I should--” the boy tried but Lan Qiren held up his hand. 

“Wei Wuxian, you call her ‘Madame,’ but you call me ‘Uncle.’ You are my future son-in-law, you may call me your guardian if you wish; and, if she makes you uncomfortable, do not push yourself to interact with her,” he said in a tone of finality and staggered a bit when the young man darted into his arms, wrapping him into a crushing hug. 

“Thank you, Uncle Lan,” Wei Wuxian breathed.

“All right, all right,” Lan Qiren smiled, petting his head. “Unhand me, Wei Wuxian. You’re making Wangji jealous.”

His nephew blinked, which was the equivalent of a flinch, and Lan Qiren watched as Wangji forced his shoulders to relax. Wei Wuxian whirled around to look at him and burst out laughing. 

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, don’t be jealous, you’re my fiancé, I have to love your uncle, don’t I?” he then hugged Wangji, nuzzling his head under his nephew’s chin.

“Mn,” Wangji hummed, wrapping his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist, then lifted him up.

“Wah! Lan Zhan, what’re you--?”

“Wangji will retire. Good night, Uncle,” his nephew bowed, still holding the smaller boy in his arms, and turned, walking back towards the sleeping quarters.

“Good night, Uncle Lan!” Wei Wuxian waved cheerfully, looking much happier than when he had come knocking. 

Lan Qiren chuckled, waving at the two as they walked out of sight. He couldn’t help but feel the ebbs of irritation at Madame Yu’s intentions though. He would’ve understood her reservations if she worried about Wei Wuxian entering a marriage he wasn’t comfortable with, but to criticize him despite Wei Wuxian not doing anything to garner it? He didn’t like it one bit.

He turned into his quarters with the intention of meditating the negative feelings away so he could sleep without agitation, but another knock on his door gave him pause. Lan Qiren turned, wondering if either his nephew or his nephew-to-be had forgotten something, and he opened the door to see those maroon eyes that have been haunting him as of late.

“Wen Ruohan?” he hissed in surprise, the taller man giving him a smile.

“Hello, darling, I’ve missed you too,” he greeted, and Lan Qiren noticed he already looked better than when they spoke last. 

“Why?” Lan Qiren asked warily, and the man chuckled, that soft smokey sound that the Lan sect leader found himself missing. 

“What’re you thinking about, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan batted his eyelashes coquettishly, holding his sleeves up to his face like a charming courtesan. “Are you going to take advantage of me?”

“I’m going to do  _ something _ to you if you don’t tell me why you’re lurking around Gusu this time of night,” the Lan leader squinted, his voice annoyed but his heart light at seeing that the Wen sect leader was apparently doing just fine. 

“Something naughty, I hope,” Wen Ruohan laughed freely, his eyes soft and on Lan Qiren. “I simply wished to see you, Qiren, nothing more,” he reached out, taking the shorter man’s hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. 

“...Do you plan on returning to Qishan?” Lan Qiren asked, desperately trying not to think about the fact that Wen Ruohan had still not released his hand. 

“Do you want me to?” Wen Ruohan asked, tilting his head, the bright moonlight catching on his hairpiece.

“What I want does not matter to Qishan,” he scoffed in response. 

“It does to me,” Wen Ruohan said, entwining their fingers and that familiar warmth slowly made its way up Lan Qiren’s arm. 

“Are you going back or not?” Lan Qiren blustered, knowing that the tips of his ears were burning red.

“Hm, not quite yet,” Wen Ruohan smiled again, but this time his smile took on the coy and sinister tint that Lan Qiren was familiar with, but didn’t like. “I’m enjoying watching my council run around and try to do what I have been doing on my own these last few decades,” he said airily. 

“Sadist,” Lan Qiren frowned.

“Do you like that kind of thing, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan purred, his smile returning to the flirty curve Lan Qiren was used to. “Want me to bully you?” he whispered, leaning forward, and Lan Qiren realized he had been backed up against the front of his own door, out in the open where any wandering disciple could see them.

He realized that perhaps he should’ve invited Wen Ruohan into his quarters after all, though the thought of what the man would say and do to him behind closed doors made him think twice. 

“Who wants to be bullied?” Lan Qiren demanded hotly, and Wen Ruohan laughed quietly, pressing his forehead against the Lan sect leader’s temple, the rumble of his broad chest vibrating against Lan Qiren’s. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you bullied me,” Wen Ruohan smiled against his ear, his finger trailing up Lan Qiren’s jaw.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lan Qiren shivered at the touch, cursing his own body’s sensitivity. 

“You’re always welcome to push me away, Qiren, you know that, right?” 

Lan Qiren blinked at the statement. Wen Ruohan pulled back, the moonlight dancing across his white robes, reflecting upwards, casting some bizarre halo around him. He cocked his head, and really, what man had the right to be so handsome? 

“Qiren?” he murmured, his maroon eyes almost ruby-like. 

“How are you, Wen Ruohan?” Qiren asked quietly.

The man stared at him for a long moment, then smiled, a breathtaking smile that lit up his pretty eyes and made him look younger than he already did. He chuckled, leaning forward, resting his head against Lan Qiren’s, his hands grasping at his elbows. 

“Better than I’ve been for a long time, Qiren,” he mumbled, and the shorter man may have hallucinated the soft kiss pressed against his hair. “All right, I’ve stolen enough of your time,” he said, definitely pressing a kiss against Lan Qiren’s forehead. “Good night, Qiren. Give your nephews my best.”

He moved to walk away, but Lan Qiren reached out to catch his sleeve. The Wen sect leader looked back, a faint question in his eyes, an expectant smile on his face. He waited for Lan Qiren to find the right words. 

“Xichen is marrying Sect Leader Nie in the near future,” he cleared his throat, and Wen Ruohan grinned.

“Really? How cute, my congratulations, Qiren,” he said earnestly.

“If I send you an invitation, where shall I send it?” Lan Qiren asked, averting his eyes. 

“... I... are you personally inviting me to your nephew’s wedding, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan asked, his voice suddenly thick, and Lan Qiren looked up to see a look of sheer adoration and vulnerability in those clear eyes. 

“Don’t make a fuss over it,” Lan Qiren felt heat rush to his cheeks.

“I’m honored, Qiren,” he mumbled softy, taking the hand grasping onto his robes and pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of Lan Qiren’s wrist. “Just send it to the main house. Zhuliu retrieves my mail for me.”

“Where have you been living, if not in Qishan?” Lan Qiren asked.

“Will you bless me with a late-night visit, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan inquired playfully, slipping back into his teasing mask. 

“Bah, if you aren’t going to take this seriously, then our conversation is over,” Lan Qiren smacked his hand away, irrational anger flushing his chest.

“Wait, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan moved forward, stumbling slightly as he cornered the Lan sect leader against the wall near his quarters, more hidden in the shadows rather than being out in the open. 

Lan Qiren winced in surprise as his back smacked against the wall, Wen Ruohan’s hands placed on either side of him, boxing him in. The older man gazed down at him, biting his lip, a look of flustered concern in his eyes. 

The Wen sect leader looked like he wanted to say something, but he looked down, annoyed with himself. So, like Wen Ruohan waited for him earlier, Lan Qiren waited for him now. The taller man exhaled slowly, then looked at him, sheepish, an expression Lan Qiren had never seen before. 

“My defense mechanism,” Wen Ruohan straightened, placing his hands on his hips, sighing slowly, “has always been to play aloof and calm and irreverent. It had always hurt too much to be... vulnerable,” he tasted the word on his tongue, grimacing at the feel of it. “So... when I... get too close to... feeling... again. I jump back to that,” he admitted quietly, his eyes on Lan Qiren.

And the sect leader realized Wen Ruohan was watching his expression, looking for pity or disgust or any other negative emotion that would’ve pulled those walls right back up. Lan Qiren almost laughed. Not that the situation was funny. He understood exactly what Wen Ruohan was talking about. He was similar when he was younger, and he changed around the time Xichen was born. 

“Vulnerability is not acceptable as a sect leader, Wen Ruohan, we both know this,” Lan Qiren spoke up and watched as the warmth in the older man’s eyes begin to freeze over, but he reached out and cupped Wen Ruohan’s face in his hands. “That is why I’m speaking to you, not as a sect leader, but as a man.”

“Qiren?”

“You may feel the need to hide away from the rest of the world, Wen Ruohan, but there’s no need to hide from me,” Lan Qiren scoffed, unbearably close to comforting his senior, but squawked indignantly when Wen Ruohan wrapped him up in a searingly hot embrace. “You--”

“Thank you, Qiren,” he whispered hoarsely, his strong arms tight around Lan Qiren’s waist, his face buried in the shorter man’s shoulder. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear someone say that.”

Lan Qiren smiled despite himself, reaching up to rub soothing circles in Wen Ruohan’s back. All of these cultivators and none of them with a healthy way of dealing with their emotions. He didn’t even know why he was more adept than the others. Perhaps he was just balancing out the rest of them.

They stood in comfortable silence for some amount of time that Lan Qiren wouldn’t be able to recall later, simply standing under bright moonlight, the sound of crickets in the far distance. The Cloud Recesses were quiet this time of night. Peaceful. Lan Qiren could feel his heartbeat in the silence, but he slowly came to realize that it wasn’t his that he felt, but Wen Ruohan’s, beating in tandem with his. 

“All right, it’s getting late, I have an early morning,” Lan Qiren said brusquely, but gently removing those iron-grip arms from around him. 

“Of course,” Wen Ruohan cleared his throat. “Thank you, Qiren,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes a little red, his hand cradling his jaw, and his expression turned serious. 

Lan Qiren flushed when his senior leaned forward, slowly, giving him time to move away, and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. A tingling sensation shuddered through the entirety of Lan Qiren’s body, down to his fingertips, down to his toes. His heart jumped in his chest. He blinked rapidly, looking up at Wen Ruohan as he pulled away. 

“Haha..” the Wen sect leader laughed softly, breathlessly. “Oh, Qiren, you’re all red,” he whispered, the back of his finger brushing against Lan Qiren’s cheek. “Good night,” he leaned forward again, pressing another stolen kiss to his junior’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he said, and --when Lan Qiren blinked-- the man was gone.

In the wake of his presence, Lan Qiren felt his knees go limp. He almost fell right where he was standing, pressing a hand to the corner of his mouth. A heated blush raced across the entirety of his face, and he promptly went to sleep, forcing the image of a smiling Wen Ruohan out of his head, the irritation at meeting Madame Yu in the morning long-forgotten. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to see a vulnerable Wen Ruohan in this chapter, will we perhaps see a vulnerable Lan Qiren in the next? 
> 
> Tune in next time to find out ^^


	9. Lan Qiren Has a Meeting with Madame Yu, and News Comes from Qishan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren has a stressful morning, then tries to destress. It doesn't work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write, and Lan Qiren shows his vulnerable side ^^
> 
> (Also, I vaguely remember in the drama that cultivators would send like qi things(?) to send messages through the air to people? Like a super long-range text? Was I hallucinating? Anyway, I made that a thing in this universe, so qi butterfly messengers it is ^^')

Madame Yu arrived with her handmaidens at her side and her sharp frown on her face. Jiang Wanyin went to greet his mother, and Lan Qiren watched from the main hall as they approached him. The boy walked away with a tense expression on his face, and Lan Qiren took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to go into their conversation angry.

“Welcome to Gusu, Madame Yu,” he greeted politely as she stopped before him.

“Lan Qiren,” she said, sharp and aloof as always. “Shall we speak?”

“To the point, as always,” Lan Qiren bowed his head, leading her and her handmaidens to his office. 

He closed the doors behind them, settling down at his desk and gesturing to the tea pot. Madame Yu shook her head once, a clean denial, her handmaidens situating themselves by the door. The headmaster crossed his hands on his desk and gazed at her.

“Do you have an objection to Wei Wuxian marrying into my family, Madame Yu?” he asked bluntly.

“Don’t you?” she stared at him incredulously. “Your precious perfect nephew marrying the greatest mistake of Yunmeng?” she laughed bitterly, and a spike of anger shot straight through Lan Qiren.

He took a deep breath, knowing that replying with anger when dealing with the Violet Spider would lead them nowhere. 

“Can you explain to me your disdain for Wei Wuxian, Madame Yu? Because I have been watching over him for months now, and he’s been nothing but a delight,” Lan Qiren said, reciting the Wall of Discipline in his mind, what he always did to center himself. 

“He is brash, self-centered, thinks he can get away with anything if he talks enough,” she easily answered, her brow furrowed. “Just because Fengmian is soft on him, doesn’t mean I should be,” Madame Yu added, her tone notably angrier. 

_ So, it’s because of Jiang Fengmian _ , Lan Qiren inwardly groaned.

Some time ago, Huaisang had mentioned to him (not gossiping, of course) that the reason Madame Yu had been so hard on Wei Wuxian was apparently because he was the son of Cangsen Sanren. 

Lan Qiren wasn’t necessarily fond of that woman, but he had been saddened when he heard of her passing. He was much fonder of Wei Changze, who was the only person who had the capability of reigning in her wild behavior. They were a lovely couple, and he saw them in Wei Wuxian, with his mother’s brightness and radiance and his father’s quick wit and thoughtfulness. 

Even when he was young he had heard of Jiang Fengmian’s fondness of his family’s disciple Wei Changze and just as fond of Cangsen Sanren. Plenty of other disciples had spoken about how the Jiang heir was in love with her, but stepped aside when his closest friend married her instead. 

Lan Qiren thought it was all complete nonsense. He had class with the three of them --the Gusu lectures every year-- and Jiang Fengmian was simply a man who was fond of the people closest to him. He treated both Wei Changze and Cangsen Sanren the exact same, cheerful smiles and warm touches. 

He didn’t love either of them though, not like that. He looked at them like siblings, or at the least, very close friends. With most other people, Jiang Fengmian was aloof and coolheaded, polite and kind, but detached. Seemed he acted that way with his wife, gathering from the way she felt about their relationship. 

“Madame Yu, I will be frank with you,” he spoke up after a moment of silence. “You and Jiang Fengmian need to have a conversation. A real one.”

“What are you saying, Lan Qiren?” she hissed, Zidian snapping to life on her finger, static filling the air. He ignored the threat. 

“You two need to speak about your feelings. I understand not wanting to. I also am not fond of sharing such things,” he stroked his beard, staring straight at her, “but... if I had with my brother, perhaps we would...” he said, his voice falling quiet for a moment. 

He blinked as Zidian quieted again.

“Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian respect you greatly, Madame Yu, but they are terrified of you,” he continued, watching as her brow unfurrowed and smoothed to an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Flowers cannot blossom in storms, how can children?”

“It is not your place to speak of parenthood, Lan Qiren,” she said, her eyes narrow but her voice lacking its usual venom. 

“Oh, really?” he arched an eyebrow, and she seemed to realize her slip-up. “Of course, how would I know? Xichen and Wangji are so well-behaved after all, they may have well raised themselves after their father shut himself away and their mother passed.”

She bit her lip, averting her gaze in response.

“You and Jiang Fengmian have raised two wonderful sons, and --from what I’ve heard-- a wonderful daughter. I do not doubt what you have done as their mother has been with their best interests at heart, Madame Yu,” Lan Qiren said carefully.

“But I will not abide your children being afraid of you when you have the opportunity right now to improve your relationship with them,” he continued and held up a hand when she looked like she was about to say something. “Please, let me finish, Madame Yu. 

“The late Madame Lan has been gone for... twelve years now, and not a day goes by when I do not wish that I could have done more for her, more for my nephews,” Lan Qiren cleared his throat, a pang in his chest from speaking about things he had never spoken of before; but, he pushed on, knowing that the madame of Yunmeng needed to hear it. 

“Xichen and Wangji have not had the blessing of present parents. I have done my best to fill that empty place in their lives, but I am not their father nor their mother. They will spend the rest of their lives thinking their father does not love them and wondering how much their mother had loved them,” he kept forcing himself to speak. “All I can do for them now is love and support them as I am.

“Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang both lost their parents as well. They will never see their father or mother smile again, never hear their praise or their critiques. They will never be able to celebrate happiness with them again,” he went on, ignoring the heat of tears tensing at his eyes.

“But you,” he inhaled sharply, fighting the melancholy away, “you and Jiang Fengmian are alive. You are here, now. You can have that relationship with your children that many others cannot,” Lan Qiren declared fiercely, Madame Yu’s lip trembling ever so slightly, and he took a deep breath, allowing his nerves to settle back to a calm state.

“Human beings need to be reminded of love, of support. Children especially. And spouses,” he added, lifting his chin, and she frowned at him. “Your husband loves you, Madame Yu, regardless of what you believe.”

“Excuse me?” she flushed, sounding flustered. 

“I mean exactly what I said, Yu Ziyuan,” he sighed, suddenly exhausted from having to tell a full adult woman and extremely capable cultivator that her husband married her for love, and not for financial or political power that he didn’t need. “When you return to Yunmeng, have a real conversation with Jiang Fengmian. Clear this murky air between the two of you that hangs over your children, and Yunmeng will be all the stronger,” he added, knowing that Madame Yu truly only wished for her home to prosper. 

They sat in silence, and Lan Qiren watched as Madame Yu sat back and thought. He merely waited, watching as she obviously was having an argument with herself. He had to give her handmaidens credit. They hadn’t moved or emoted once in the entire time they had been speaking. 

“And, as Wei Wuxian’s future uncle-in-law,” he spoke up after a rather long, pregnant silence, “if he ever comes to me with any look of discontent on his face from interacting with you, Madame Yu, I will not be so civil the next time we speak.”

Madame Yu blinked in surprise, then --after another long silence-- she gave him a rueful smile. She bowed her head once.

“... I thank you for your kindness to Wei Wuxian, Lan Qiren,” she said quietly. “I hate to admit it, but my pride is a... difficult thing to overcome.”

“You are capable of going on a night hunt on your own and catching any number of ghosts and beasts and spirits, Madame Yu. Make the effort to overcome it,” Lan Qiren stated sternly, not allowing her to make any foolish excuse. 

“Always a stuffy teacher,” she scoffed, though the fight had faded from her eyes. She stood, and her handmaidens straightened ever so slightly in acknowledgement. “Lan Qiren.”

“Madame Yu,” he also stood, looking at her.

“...May I speak with Wei Wuxian?” the lady of Yunmeng asked, uncharacteristically unsure of herself. 

“If he wishes to speak with you, then by all means,” Lan Qiren answered easily, leading the way out to the fields. 

During free time in the afternoon, Wangji and Wei Wuxian liked to spend time in the fields, playing with the rabbits that Wei Wuxian had given Wangji. Lan Qiren had seen them there a handful of times, always laughing and smiling, lost in their own little world. He had been tempted to paint them a number of times, though the arts weren’t his forte, necessarily. 

They sat there now, Wangji upright, Wei Wuxian lying down, his head on Wangji’s lap. Lan Qiren’s nephew was holding a scroll in one hand, reading intently, his other hand gently running his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s hair. Wei Wuxian had his eyes closed, but he was speaking, and a rabbit sleeping on his chest, his own hands stroking the rabbit’s fur in contentment. 

Lan Qiren moved to call out to Wei Wuxian, but Madame Yu stopped him. He glanced over her and saw a strange expression on the woman’s face. It took him a second to realize, but Lan Qiren came to understand it, a bittersweet remorse.

“Has... Has Wei Wuxian been looking like that here?” she asked, her knuckles tight, her fists clenched. 

“Yes... he has,” Lan Qiren looked forward again, smiling when Wangji placed his scroll down and joined Wei Wuxian in petting the sleeping rabbit. 

“I shall return to Yunmeng,” Madame Yu said abruptly, turning on her heel.

“Madame--?” Lan Qiren moved, trying to understand her sudden departure and at least offer her a place to rest before heading all the way back to the Jiang sect.

“I shall speak with Fengmian immediately,” she said, her cheeks red. She paused and looked at the head of Lan. “Thank you, Lan Qiren. I have never seen such a look on his face before,” she mumbled. “I’ll strive to be... better.”

“If anyone can, it’s you, Violet Spider,” Lan Qiren arched an eyebrow, challenging, and she smiled back at him, as sharp as ever. He could see where Jiang Wanyin got his looks from. 

“Tell my sons that I expect to hear good things about them by the end of the lectures,” she left, and Lan Qiren noted how she said  _ sons _ . 

“Of course. Safe travels, Madame Yu,” he saw her off to the front gates. 

“Master Lan,” Jiang Wanyin popped up around the corner, wringing his hands in concern. “Is everything all right? Is my mother...” he bit his lip in worry.

“All is well, Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Qiren gave him a smile, placing his hand on the young man’s head and ruffling his hair. “Madame Yu and I had a conversation on openness in the family. Your mother wishes to hear good things about you and Wei Wuxian.”

“B-Both of us?” he paused.

“Both of you,” he affirmed, and Jiang Wanyin beamed. 

“Thank you, Master Lan,” he breathed, throwing his arms around Lan Qiren’s waist and hugging him. A surprising display of affection from the young Jiang heir, but not unwelcome. 

“I am happy to help, Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Qiren chuckled, hugging him back. 

“Do you know where Wei Wuxian is, Master Lan? I want to tell him that Mother didn’t leave angry,” he breathed, the relief evident in his face. 

“On the hills with Wangji, playing with rabbits.”

“Of course,” Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes, albeit in a fond manner, and took off, thanking Lan Qiren again as he left. 

Lan Qiren smiled to himself, then rolled his shoulders slightly, the tension of the morning wearing off, but still lingering on his shoulders. Perhaps he could do with a visit to the Cold Springs. 

Before he could do anything, he heard Xichen approaching him, calling for him. He turned to see his nephew floating towards him, holding a letter in his hand. Lan Qiren waited for his nephew to hand him the letter, surprised to see the Wen sect symbol on it.

“From Qishan, Uncle,” Xichen said. “Has Sect Leader Wen returned already?”

“No, I don’t believe he has,” Lan Qiren frowned, opening to the letter to see an invitation to the annual archery contest held in Qishan, Wen Ruohan’s son’s name at the bottom of the letter, Wen Xu. 

“The archery competition?” Xichen read the letter beside his uncle. “They still plan on holding it without Sect Leader Wen?”

“Apparently,” Lan Qiren frowned, wishing that the letter had come yesterday so he could’ve asked Wen Ruohan about it last night. 

“The contest is in a month’s time?” Xichen mumbled softly. “We’ll still be holding our lectures. Should we all go together?”

“If the other heirs are open to it, I’m happy to escort everyone to Qishan,” Lan Qiren hummed. “Please inform the disciples of the invitation, Xichen.”

“Of course, Uncle,” Xichen smiled, as peaceful and serene as always, gliding away. 

Lan Qiren returned to his office, and sent a qi butterfly off to find Wen Ruohan and ask about the archery contest before he could change his mind. Because of his constant interactions with the sect leader, he had a better understanding of Wen Ruohan’s mentality. 

Lan Qiren, however, didn’t know much about his children. He knew  _ about _ Wen Xu and Wen Chao, but he hadn’t heard anything particularly positive about them. He also heard that their father was far more attractive than they were, which he thought was quite sad. He couldn’t imagine being a young man with a father that looked like Wen Ruohan, what with the man’s silken hair and amused smile and soft yet piercing eyes and broad shoulders and--

Lan Qiren smacked his cheeks abruptly. He needed to stop thinking about Wen Ruohan. Maybe he needed to go to the Cold Springs after all. 

During this time of day on a free day in Gusu, the Cold Springs were very likely to be empty, not like it would’ve been a problem for Lan Qiren to run into anyone there. He simply didn’t wish to unsettle anyone who saw him at the springs. It would be like seeing, well, an uncle who was also a teacher outside of school. 

The air around the springs was crisp and chilly, biting and cold, and Lan Qiren welcomed the feeling. It cleared his mind, and the mint sprigs growing nearby only accentuated the invigorating cut of the air. 

Lan Qiren quickly disrobed, stepping into the water, the shock of the ice a familiar and bracing sensation that snapped straight through him. He took a deep breath as he stepped further into the water, wading to the depths of the springs and sitting down, his hair floating on the surface of the water, submerged up to his chest. 

He cleared his thoughts, sitting in lotus position, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The still tranquility brought him peace of mind, time slowing to nothing and everything at once. Lan Qiren felt his qi thrumming through his meridians, powerful and steady. All was right in the world.

“Wow, Qiren, it’s quite cold here, isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren’s eyes shot open in flustered alarm, seeing Wen Ruohan sitting at the side of the springs, his long legs dipped in the water, loosening his outer robes. 

“Wen Ruohan, how do you keep getting into the Cloud Recesses?!” he demanded, wondering why he didn’t question him before. 

“My lovely niece and nephew let me in,” he smiled, fluidly stripping out of his outer layers.

“What-Why-What’re you doing?!” Lan Qiren covered his eyes, his face burning far too hot for the Cold Springs. 

“I’ve never been to the famous Cold Springs before, I wanted to see what it was like,” Wen Ruohan answered innocently, and every sound suddenly became too loud, the splashing of the water as he moved nearing Lan Qiren.

“Why’re you here?” Lan Qiren asked, filled with many conflicted feelings about this entire situation. What even compelled him to come here in the first place?

“You sent me a qi butterfly, and since I was in the area, I figured I would answer in person,” the sect leader answered easily, his voice unnervingly close to Lan Qiren. “A-Qing mentioned she saw you heading here, so I followed her directions.”

“You could’ve waited for me elsewhere!” Lan Qiren shivered, not really cold anymore. 

“Would you really have wanted me to wait in your private quarters for an inordinate amount of time with nothing else to do, Qiren? How forward of you,” Wen Ruohan chuckled, settling far too close to Lan Qiren but also far too far? The younger man’s brain was overheating. “So, the archery contest,” he spoke up.

“Yes, how are things in Qishan?” Lan Qiren asked, still covering his eyes but wondering if he should also cover any other part of himself. He was still wearing his trousers, but he felt too bared to the world. 

“Looks like my sons are finally doing something for once,” Wen Ruohan huffed. “I look forward to seeing what they manage to throw together.”

“So... they aren’t planning to do anything... strange at the contest, are they?” Lan Qiren asked nervously.

“My sons are arrogant and selfish, but they’re harmless enough,” Wen Ruohan sighed. 

“You’re... very dismissive of them,” Lan Qiren frowned, moving his hands away from his face but immediately regretting the decision when faced with a very wet and almost-naked Wen Ruohan. 

“What can I say, they take after their late mother,” he said, grimacing slightly. 

“Did you not love her?”

“It was a political marriage, Qiren, and there was nothing to love,” Wen Ruohan said, running his hands through his dark hair, the swell of his biceps quite enticing. “I’ll go there with Zhuliu in secret to keep an eye on things, Qiren, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“You’re shameless,” Lan Qiren crossed his arms, averting his gaze. 

“You pull it out of me, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan chuckled. 

“Wen Zhuliu... he’s the only one you speak of favorably,” the younger man said, chancing another gaze at the sect leader. Another mistake, since he was looking straight at him with those maroon eyes. “Why is that?” he remembered to ask.

“He’s a good man,” Wen Ruohan said appreciatively. “I found him as a boy, starving to death in the remains of a village that a monster rampaged through. Zhuliu was around the same age as A-Xu, so I took him in, raised him. He’s steadfastly loyal. Smart, quiet, I’m very fond of him,” he smiled softly, the most paternal expression Lan Qiren had ever seen on his face. 

“So you do have people you care about,” Lan Qiren huffed, trying to be aloof, but it probably came across as more of a whine. He cursed his inability to think properly. 

“I do,” his senior smiled, not commenting on his tone of voice, which Lan Qiren was quite grateful for. “I care about Zhuliu, I care about A-Qing and A-Ning and their side of the family,” he listed, reaching forward and brushing a damp section of Lan Qiren’s bangs away from his face. “I care about you.”

Lan Qiren flushed, feeling the heat rise up from his chest to his face, and he then cursed his pale complexion. Wen Ruohan chuckled quietly, brushing the back of his finger against the younger man’s cheekbones, the touch hot despite the fact that the springs were so cold.

“I cannot possibly fathom why you like me so much, Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren said, his heart fluttering in his chest. 

“I have a list of reasons, Qiren,” the man answered in his low and honeyed voice, serious, earnest, his hand cupping Lan Qiren’s chin, his thumb brushing over his lower lip. Wen Ruohan’s dark eyes followed the motion of his junior’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed, “but do you have the time to listen?”

“I...” Lan Qiren’s voice died in his throat, his own eyes flickering to the taller man’s mouth, still full of color despite the chill of the air. 

“Qiren,” he murmured, his face drawing closer, and Lan Qiren’s eyes drifted closed, the blazing heat from his senior’s lips almost brushing against his. 

“Master Wen.”

Both men jumped, pulling away from each other, a look of embarrassment on Lan Qiren’s face and a look of murderous irritation on Wen Ruohan’s. A young man popped up from behind one of the rocks, someone Lan Qiren didn’t recognize, but assumed it must’ve been Wen Zhuliu. He was tall, broad, with sleek dark hair and strong eyebrows. 

“Zhuliu,” Wen Ruohan stood, the frigid water sledging down his body, his trousers sticking to his skin, almost transparent-- 

Lan Qiren almost dunked his entire head into the freezing water, but chose to look back at Wen Zhuliu instead. 

“Problems from home, sir,” Wen Zhuliu said in a deep voice, looking apologetic. 

“Very well,” Wen Ruohan sighed in exasperation, grabbing his robes from the side of the springs and swinging them on gracefully. “Until next time, darling,” he glanced over his shoulder with a wink and walked off.

“Master Lan,” Wen Zhuliu bowed deeply and ran off after the sect leader. 

Lan Qiren groaned in frustration, sinking down into the freezing springs, trying his best to clear his mind of the entire afternoon. It didn’t work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... I'm sure a lot of people wanted me to write Lan Qiren just kicking Madame Yu's ass for being an abusive mother, but honestly, she doesn't seem like the type you can yell at and it would get through to her
> 
> If Lan Qiren tried yelling at her and lecturing her like he did with Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan, she would probably just whip out Zidian and fight him, which is counterproductive
> 
> So, here's Lan Qiren, taking the high road and talking to her calmly and compassionately. 
> 
> I hope not too many of you are disappointed T^T
> 
> I hope the almost-steamy Wen Ruohan x Lan Qiren made up for it ^^'


	10. Lan Qiren Takes the Kids to Archery Camp and Adopts Another Young Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren escorts the sects' heirs to Qishan, where he meets a new face and a familiar one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little harder for me to write for reasons I will mention down at the end notes
> 
> Also, the beginning of this chapter goes out to @Jadedspiderlilly who asked if Lan Qiren had a beard or not in this fic, and asked me to get rid of it if he did.  
> So, I Googled what he looked like without it, took it away from him, and I am forever a happier person ^^

The time leading up to the archery competition danced by all too quickly, and Lan Qiren found that he wished he hadn’t been so busy. Apparently Mingjue was also extremely occupied with his sect leader duties, because he hadn’t been able to write much about the upcoming wedding. 

Lan Qiren would’ve been a little more upset at the Nie leader for not giving Xichen more attention, but with the endless stream of letters that came from Qinghe every other day, he didn’t mind too much.

Another thing that bothered Lan Qiren was that Wen Ruohan hadn’t contacted him once at all in the last month. Not that he was worried, of course, he just found that he was concerned about the state of the Wen sect, that’s all. Wen Zhuliu had mentioned “problems from home,” and that could have meant anything. 

He hated how distracted he was because of it all. He caught himself almost losing track of his thoughts during lectures and dripping ink on essays the disciples had submitted. He had even gotten so distracted that he had leaned a little too far forward in the kitchen as he helped the cooks prepare meals and got his beard into a container of sticky rice. 

The cooks fretted around him and he apologized profusely for contaminating a whole dish. He returned to his quarters, looking in his mirror, realizing that cutting his beard to the length where it wasn’t sticky anymore would’ve been the strangest length to have it. He sighed, then proceeded to shave the entirety of his facial hair off. 

He washed his face, feeling odd about the smoothness of his chin and his lips. He looked in the mirror and sighed again. Without his facial hair, he really looked far too young. He looked closer to being Xichen and Wangji’s elder brother as opposed to their uncle.

Lan Qiren sighed for the third time, then left his quarters, bracing himself for interactions. 

By dinner time, he counted at least thirty disciples asking who he was, flushing pink when they saw him walk by, or outright staring in complete confusion. He felt a faint headache thrumming in the back of his skull at all the sudden attention. 

“Uncle,” Wangji’s soft voice spoke up behind him, and a tickle of nervousness darted through his chest. 

“Wangji,” he turned, and his nephew gazed at him as if nothing had changed.

“Is Uncle well? Uncle seems tired,” he inquired in concern, not even acknowledging his uncle’s changed face. 

“I... I’m well, Wangji, though I am a bit weary,” Lan Qiren smiled fondly at his nephew, knowing that regardless of how he looked, Wangji would’ve never treated him differently. 

“Uncle should sleep. Wangji will take care of the sect,” his nephew bowed his head. 

“Thank you, Wangji,” Lan Qiren reached out and squeezed Wangji’s shoulder as he walked past. 

“Lan Zhaaaaannnn!” 

Wei Wuxian burst out of nowhere, throwing himself at Wangji who caught him easily, as if he expected it. The smaller boy cooed in delight, then turned his big gray eyes to Lan Qiren, squinting at him for a long moment. 

“Uncle Lan?” his eyes sparkled like stars. “Wow! You look so young, like Xichen-ge and Lan Zhan’s big brother!” he chirped, letting go of his fiancé to stare at the head of Lan. “Your uncle’s so handsome, Lan Zhan! If you look anything like Uncle Lan does twenty years from now, I’ll be the luckiest man alive!” Wei Wuxian declared brightly, not really even giving Lan Qiren an opportunity to say anything, before he leapt back into Wangji’s arms. 

“Okay, can we go to Caiyi now, Lan Zhan? I’m out of a bunch of things,” he pouted. 

“Must stay and watch over Gusu, Wei Ying go,” Wangji answered softly, still holding Wei Wuxian against him. 

“Eh? That’s no fun, I’ll stay and keep you company,” Wei Wuxian huffed, tossing his messy hair away from his face. 

“Don’t have to,” Wangji said, but Lan Qiren could see in the tilt of his lips and the glint in his eyes that his nephew was happy to hear it. 

“It’s no fun going to Caiyi without you,” Wei Wuxian huffed proudly, and Wangji smiled, Wei Wuxian’s entire face blooming red at the sight. 

“Good night, Uncle,” his nephew bowed his head, walking off with his fiancé, Wei Wuxian waving brightly as they left. 

Lan Qiren chuckled softly to himself as he made his way back to his quarters. He needed the sleep, they were heading to Qishan early the next morning, and he wanted to stay as alert as he could when they got there. A sense of foreboding filled his chest at the thought of going to the Wen sect. 

He shook the trepidation away as he reached his room. It wouldn’t do to go to sleep like this. He had a fleeting thought of going to the Cold Springs, but the image of a disheveled and disrobed Wen Ruohan popped into his head, and he pushed all thoughts out of his head as quickly as possible.

“I’ll never be able to go to the Cold Springs again,” he mumbled to himself, cross. 

“Why is that, Uncle?”

Lan Qiren almost flinched upon hearing his other nephew’s voice, and he turned to see Xichen standing in the doorway, holding a lantern. His nephew’s usually-placid eyes flickered in surprise, probably at seeing his uncle’s clean-shaven face, but his expression smoothed back to normal. If it were anyone else, they probably wouldn’t have noticed. 

“I, what, Xichen?” Lan Qiren blustered, and his elder nephew smiled kindly. 

“Why can you not go to the Cold Springs again?” he asked, and Lan Qiren willed his face to remain as stoic as he could keep it. 

“No particular reason, Xichen,” he cleared his throat, and Xichen chuckled.

“Very well then, Uncle,” he bowed his head, then flushed slightly. “Um, Uncle?” Xichen inquired, and --at his uncle’s curious nod-- he continued. “Would it be all right if I attended the archery contest with Mingjue?” he asked softly.

“You intend on flying all the way to Qinghe tonight?” Lan Qiren blinked in surprise. 

“I would’ve left earlier, but several disciples needed my help, “ Xichen said, a touch rueful. 

“Hm, I see nothing wrong with that,” Lan Qiren nodded. “Send a qi butterfly when you arrive, Xichen.”

“Yes, thank you, Uncle!” Xichen beamed, moving forward and hugging Lan Qiren to the older man’s surprise. 

“Yes, yes, give my greetings to Mingjue,” he smiled, patting Xichen’s back fondly. 

“I will, thank you, Uncle!” his nephew repeated cheerfully and glided away, the tranquility of his presence lingering in Lan Qiren’s quarters. 

The head of Lan smiled, shaking his head. It seemed that Xichen and Wangji had become fine young men before he even realized it. They would surely soon surpass him and take over the Cloud Recesses in no time. The thought gave him pause, a bittersweet emotion touching his heart. What would he do, once they didn’t need him anymore?

“Ridiculous,” he mumbled, clearing his head of such thoughts and turning in for the night, that feeling of concern still burning in the back of his mind. 

The next day came quickly and Lan Qiren rallied his disciples together so they could all leave for Qishan together. He left the elder Lans in charge of Gusu in his absence, and all the young cultivators followed the head of Lan towards the Wen sect. 

The flight was uneventful, if anything, it was pleasant. The skies were clear and bright, and the air was sweet and filled with the bubbling conversation of the young disciples: Wei Wuxian rambling off about new talismans he had designed, Huaisang mentioning how dangerous but fascinating those must be, Jiang Wanyin complaining that his clan brother would accidentally burn up an entire countryside if he weren’t careful, and Jin Zixuan agreeing with his younger brother-in-law-to-be. 

Several hours later, after taking a break for the weaker cultivators, they approached Qishan, with its massive forests and mountains and cities in the distance, the Nightless City itself a gray and slate monument on the horizon. The group descended at the designated area where a good amount of cultivators had gathered, the Nie sect flag fluttering over a group of people dressed in dark green robes. 

“Master Lan,” one of the Nie disciples greeted with a bow after a long inquisitive stare at the head of Lan, Nie Zhonghui, if Lan Qiren remembered correctly. “Thank you for taking care of Master Huaisang, as always,” he smiled faintly.

“Ah, Hui-ge, don’t make such a big deal about it,” Huaisang whined good-naturedly, playfully punching at the taller disciple’s shoulder.

“Wah, so strong, Master Huaisang,” Nie Zhonghui collapsed dramatically, clutching at his shoulder. “You’ve learned so much at Gusu,” he declared completely straight-faced. 

“Ah, Hui-ge, you’re _ annoying _ ,” Huaisang whined again, though in fondness, hiding his face behind his fan. 

“Uncle,” Xichen’s voice floated in the air, and he turned to see his nephew and nephew’s massive fiancé approaching, attached at the hip.

“Uncle Lan,” Mingjue gaped at his face. “Your beard--” he started when Xichen swiftly elbowed him. 

“How was your trip, Uncle?” Xichen smiled kindly. 

“Good, Xichen,” Lan Qiren arched an eyebrow. “Don’t abuse your husband before you even wed.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Uncle,” Xichen tilted his head innocently, then moved to talk to Wangji. 

“Uncle Lan, you’re well, I hope?” Mingjue said, grabbing his little brother and playfully ruffling his hair, Huaisang pouting and whining, “Da-geeeeee,” as he did so. 

“I am, and you, Mingjue?”

“Swamped with work,” he sighed, rolling his broad shoulders. “Uncle Lan, you know I hate to be a bother, but would you perhaps have time for another lost disciple?” he asked, leaning down to murmur in a low voice. 

“Who did you have in mind, Mingjue?”

His nephew-to-be turned and waved for someone to approach. A young man with bright eyes and a polite smile approached, slim and slight, with a delicate manner. He seemed pleasant enough, but Lan Qiren felt a nervousness radiating from the young man that made his paternal side rear its head. 

“Master Lan,” the young man gave him a deep bow, his voice soft and airy. 

“Meng Yao,” Mingjue introduced. “My aide.”

“How are you, Meng Yao?” Lan Qiren bowed back, and the boy blinked, looking at him with big eyes. 

“I.. I am well, Master Lan,” he answered with a careful smile. 

“I’m not the patient and nurturing parent-type, Uncle Lan,” Mingjue frowned, looking frustrated with himself. “Could you..?” he asked, his voice trailing off. 

Mingjue had always been a big man, with his broad shoulders and radiating strength, but he looked so small and unsure. Lan Qiren had to keep from patting his head and hugging him. 

“Shall we speak, Meng Yao?” Lan Qiren inquired kindly, looking at the young man, who looked back and forth between Mingjue and the sect leader of Lan like a confused cat.

“Yes, sir,” he bowed his head humbly, and Lan Qiren led him to a clearing a little farther away from the crowds of people.

He set up a Silence Talisman and sat upon a smooth boulder, gesturing for Meng Yao to sit beside him. The young man did so, his expression bright and open, but a faint thrumming nervous energy emanated from him. Lan Qiren had to fight back a sad sigh. The boy’s charming smile felt like a mask he felt obligated to wear, and he was far too young to be so self-aware.

“What would you like to speak about, Meng Yao?” he asked quietly, gazing at the young man. 

“I... Sect Leader Nie says I may speak with you about anything, without fear,” he spoke in a clear and resonant voice, looking at Lan Qiren with big eyes. 

“That is correct,” Lan Qiren hummed, moving to stroke his beard and stopping when he remembered it was gone. “Do not fear, Meng Yao, you are in a safe space. Speak freely, there is no judgement here,” he said kindly, and the warmth and sincerity in his voice must have reached Meng Yao, because the young man let out a shuddery breath and began to speak.

“I am... My mother...” he inhaled deeply and tried again, his eyes tinged red. “Sect Leader Jin is my father,” Meng Yao said quietly, and Lan Qiren felt a tired anger fluttering in his chest, but he kept silent as the younger man continued to speak, his carefully constructed mask melting away as he did.

“He tossed my mother aside who worked as a prostitute until she died,” Meng Yao said steadily, which Lan Qiren admired. “I was raised in a brothel, and Sect Leader Jin didn’t do anything to help. There was a time when we were having a very... difficult time one winter, so she swallowed her pride and asked him for help through a letter. 

“He wrote back that she wasn’t pretty enough to help, and that no son of hers would be a son of his,” Meng Yao choked out, his shoulders quivering as the painful memories swirled up to the surface. “Mother died that month.

“And if that weren’t bad enough, the cultivation world sees me as the son of a whore, nothing more, never anything more than that,” Meng Yao continued, as if a dam were suddenly ruptured and words flowed freely from his mouth. “From the other women at the brothels to other cultivators I’ve met, they all look down upon me. What have I done to earn this? 

“My mother didn’t deserve to die cold, starving, and broken, she’s never done anything wrong. All she ever did was love me, why is the world so unjust and unfair and-” the young man broke down, and Lan Qiren pulled him into a hug. 

It was a somewhat risky action for him to take. Lan Qiren didn’t know enough about the boy to know if he would be okay with the physical contact, but it broke the older man’s heart to see him like this. No wonder Mingjue took him in. 

Meng Yao froze for a second, then clung to Lan Qiren, sobbing into his robes as the head of Lan soothed him as much as he could. Lan Qiren had an internal conflict as he held the boy, his slim frame violently shaking as he cried, and the man wondered if he should go straight to Jin Guangshan and slap him straight across the face, or kick him down the Koi Tower. 

He may have just met Meng Yao, but he would very willingly push the Jin Sect Leader down the tallest flight of stairs in the continent for the boy. 

“It’s all right, you’ll be all right now, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren hummed soothingly. “Do the Nies treat you well?” he asked, gently changing the subject. 

“They are the first to do so, yes, Master Lan,” Meng Yao said, a faint smile in his voice. “I am truly grateful for Sect Leader Nie.”

“Good,” the head of Lan nodded slowly. “Have you calmed down, Meng Yao?” he asked, pulling away, wiping the boy’s tear-stained cheeks. 

“Yes, Master Lan,” he breathed in slowly, flushing slightly. “I’m so sorry, your robes--” he referred to his now-damp clothing. 

“It is just clothing, Meng Yao, nothing to worry about,” Lan Qiren shook his head. “Have you reached out to anyone else in the Jin family?”

“No, of course not,” Meng Yao bowed his head.

“Shall I summon Jin Zixuan to speak with you?” Lan Qiren asked thoughtfully, and --at the terrified expression flashing through Meng Yao’s eyes-- he frowned. “Have you spoken with him before?”

“No, I have not,” he answered, brow furrowed. “I did not think Young Master Jin would want anything to do with me.”

“As aloof as Jin Zixuan is, he has a good heart, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren formed a qi butterfly. “I shall mediate for you if you would like for me to call him here right now,” he said, waiting to send it.

“Young Master Jin will... not be upset?” Meng Yao asked warily. 

“If he gets upset for something you have not done, then I will scold him,” Lan Qiren scoffed. “Shall I send it?”

“If you think it best, then yes, Master Lan, please send it,” Meng Yao bowed his head, and Lan Qiren did so. 

They sat in companionable silence, Lan Qiren roping the younger man into meditating with him to calm down. Soon enough, after the young disciple calmed down, they heard footsteps approaching, and they saw the young heir of Jin approaching, a curious expression on his face as he looked at Meng Yao. 

“Is everything all right, Master Lan?” he asked, settling down on a boulder opposite them, gazing at them both with his calm expression. 

“Not really, Jin Zixuan,” Lan Qiren scoffed, noticing the alarmed look on Meng Yao’s face. “This is Meng Yao, your half-brother,” he stated bluntly, and he placed a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, to ground him so he wouldn’t panic.

Jin Zixuan blinked, then groaned, placing the heels of his palms against his eyes. Lan Qiren felt Meng Yao tense, but he mumbled his assurances. 

“I’m so sorry,” the Jin heir sighed, standing and bowing at the waist in Meng Yao’s direction. “Your life must’ve been difficult,” he said sympathetically. “I cannot possibly make up for all the hardships you’ve been through, but I’ll make up for it now, if you’ll allow it,” he said earnestly.

“I... pardon?” Meng Yao stared at his half-brother in sheer disbelief. 

“My father has hurt a lot of people,” Jin Zixuan grimaced, allowing his emotions to show on his face. “I refuse to do the same,” he stated confidently. “I shall speak with him immediately,” he nodded, determined. “Come, Meng Yao, you can call me ‘Brother,’ if you want,” he gave his half-brother a kind smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“With all due respect, Young Master Jin,” Meng Yao’s eyes glittered in more tears which had yet to fall, “I do not think Sect Leader Jin will approve of me.”

“Too bad,” Jin Zixuan huffed, sounding annoyed. “Father makes problems, so he needs to address them instead of hiding away in his brothels,” he grit his teeth, radiating anger. “It’s all right, A-Yao,” he smiled again at Meng Yao. “We’ll take care of you.”

“If you need help, Jin Zixuan, I can stand menacingly behind you will you speak with your father,” Lan Qiren remarked, and the Jin heir laughed. 

“I can handle my father, Master Lan, thank you,” he said with a bow. 

“Thank you, Master Lan,” Meng Yao bowed just as deep, but stayed in that position a little longer. “I truly appreciate everything you and Sect Leader Nie has done for me. I’ll pay you back for it as soon as I can,” he said seriously, straightening, his expression as bright and clear as it was when they had first spoken, but with a lighter line to his shoulders. 

Lan Qiren smiled as the two brothers walked off, talking in an animated manner. He and his own brother used to speak like that (less animatedly, off course, because they were Lans after all) when they were young and more carefree. He hoped the two Jins would develop a strong sibling bond. 

Lan Qiren inhaled deeply, the scent of the forest and trees filling his head, clearing his thoughts, though he was still a little worried about the outcome of Meng Yao meeting with Jin Guangshan, but he trusted Jin Zixuan to handle things appropriately. 

The Jin heir had blossomed these last few months, having resolved things with Jiang Yanli and offering a truce of peace with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin. He flourished with good company, smiling more, teasing more. Lan Qiren was happy to see the next generations of sect leaders developing good relations. 

Finishing his ruminations, the head of Lan turned straight into something solid. He blinked in surprise as that cinnamon and cedarwood scent filled his head, and he looked up to see --who else-- Wen Ruohan, the man popping up out of nowhere yet again. He would’ve made an amazing assassin in another life. 

“Why do you keep appearing out of thin air?” Lan Qiren demanded in place of an actual greeting, though he was happy to see that his senior was unharmed after a month of silence. 

Wen Ruohan, instead of having a coy and infuriating answer, simply stared at him with wide eyes. Lan Qiren waited for him to say something, glancing him over --for possible injuries, no other reason!-- and seeing that he had donned unassuming robes of neutral colors. He also didn’t wear his gaudy hairpiece and his hair was in a different style. He still looked like Wen Ruohan, but if a person didn’t look too hard, they probably wouldn’t recognize him. 

After what felt like quite a long time, Wen Ruohan finally blinked and spoke.

“I... your beard...?” he said, his voice dying in his throat, and Lan Qiren burned red in embarrassment. 

“There was an incident,” he said, flustered, wanting to hide his face. 

“I like it,” Wen Ruohan gathered himself, reaching up to touch his junior’s chin. “It’s a part of you I haven’t touched before.”

“Shameless!” Lan Qiren blushed, smacking his hand away, the desire to just hold the hand filling his head before he smacked that away too. 

“It suits you, Qiren,” he chuckled, the smoky sound curling around Lan Qiren’s heart. “You were already handsome, but now I’m going to have to bat people away from you,” he sighed in faux despair. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Lan Qiren sighed. “How do you plan on moving around Qishan without being recognized, Wen Ruohan?” he asked, brow furrowed. 

“I’ve been doing it the entire last week, nobody recognized me,” he smiled, a bright and carefree smile that Lan Qiren had never seen before.

“Pardon? What do you mean these people who live in your sect didn’t recognize you?”the head of Lan stared at him, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed.

“I simply walk around with a smile and speak in a lighter tone of voice, Qiren, most of them have never even seen me up-close much less hear me speak,” the Wen sect leader scoffed, and  _ really _ he looked much younger than he did when the man had first visited Lan Qiren in the middle of the night. “And I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I’m very good at not being seen,” he leaned closer to his junior and winked, Lan Qiren viciously fighting back a blush and moving his face away. 

“Why wouldn’t I believe you?” he demanded, and Lan Qiren immediately felt a strangely delighted sense of dread at seeing the playful smirk on his senior’s face. 

“Because you’re always looking at me, RenRen,” he purred, and Lan Qiren felt the flush start from his chest and rush up to his ears.

“ _ Shameless! _ ” he repeated, proud that his voice hadn’t cracked, and immediately placed a silencing charm on Wen Ruohan.

“Mmn- Mmmn?” the man blinked in surprise, stepping back, staring at Lan Qiren in amused shock. 

“Enough of your honeyed words, Wen Ruohan,” the head of Lan tried to say with authority, but it came out sounding a touch weak, more of a plea.

Wen Ruohan chuckled, his lips still sealed together, and he nodded, taking Lan Qiren’s hands and pressing chaste kisses to the back of his knuckles. The younger man averted his eyes, and Wen Ruohan abruptly turned towards a movement.

Wen Zhuliu appeared from behind a tree, bowing in greeting. Wen Ruohan smiled, turning back to Lan Qiren to point at his own lips. 

“Will you behave?” Lan Qiren leveled him with a look, and his senior smiled again, his eyes bright and amused, and he nodded again. The head of Lan released him from the seal, and Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, parting his lips in a test. 

“Kinky,” he smiled, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Lan Qiren’s cheek. “I’ll be seeing you, Qiren,” he moved back before Lan Qiren could strike him. “Zhuliu,” he said as he walked past his adopted son.

“Mm,” the stoic man bowed, then turned to Lan Qiren, bowing in his direction as well in greeting as he followed the Wen sect leader into the dense forest. 

Lan Qiren stared after them, his brain trying to catch up with all that had happened in the last half hour alone. 

He must’ve stood there for quite a while, lost in thought, because a qi butterfly fluttered impatiently before him. Lan Qiren shook out of his daze, reprimanding himself for leaving himself so defenseless. He accepted it, recognizing Jin Zixuan’s qi, the message asking for his presence as Jin Guangshan officially recognized his son, Meng Yao, or Jin Guangyao now. 

The head of Lan smiled in relief and made his way to where the Jin heir had asked him to meet. He found that the other leaders of the sects had been called into a private meeting room. 

In place of Wen Ruohan, his sons Wen Xu and Wen Chao stood in for him, almost-handsome young men who paled in comparison to their father. Jiang Fengmian sat under his banner with Jiang Wanyin at his side, speaking with each other with a more relaxed aura to them than Lan Qiren had ever seen.

Mingjue sat under his banner with Huaisang and Nie Zhonghui at his sides, arms crossed, back straight, happiness dancing in his eyes despite his serious expression. Xichen and Wangji sat under the Lan banner, a space empty for their uncle, both his nephews greeting him as he entered, Xichen with a smile and Wangji with a nod. 

Jin Guangshan sat at a table under the Jin banner, looking massively uncomfortable (which was great), Madame Jin beside him with a look of sheer cold politeness on her face, obviously simmering under her calm facade, Jin Zixuan standing beside Meng Yao before the gathered leaders and heirs. 

Lan Qiren greeted them all as he sat down between his nephews, ignoring the startled looks on the other leaders who didn’t realize who he was without his beard. Out of all of them, Jiang Fengmian had to be the only one who knew what he looked like without his facial hair (all thanks to Cangse Sanren all those years ago), so he could at least recognize him. 

“So, to the matter at hand,” he held up his hand, gesturing towards the young Jins in the middle of the room. 

The other leaders turned, Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan still a little on edge from when he yelled at him all those months ago. Lan Qiren noted that the Wen heirs looked annoyed and dismissive of the entire thing. He once thought Wen Ruohan was quite an annoying man, but he hadn’t realized the man’s sons were far worse. 

“Thank you, Master Lan,” Jin Zixuan smoothly took control of the meeting, his mother preening in pride. “I have asked everyone to gather today to recognize my younger brother Meng Yao, now known as Jin Guangyao, as a fellow heir to Lanling,” he stated clearly, the Wen boys choking on their tea at the announcement. 

“Any objection will be completely denied and ignored,” Jin Zixuan went on, staring his father dead in the eyes. “He is my younger brother and any voices of dissent will answer to me. Any disrespect towards A-Yao will be an insult to Lanling. I simply called everyone here to make the announcement. That is all,” he gave a curt nod, and Jin Guangyao bowed beside him, a picture of perfect poise, a stark contrast to the young man crying into Lan Qiren’s robes not even an hour ago. 

“I am in your care,” he said softly with a perfect smile, Xichen and Mingjue smiling back at him.

While the Wen heirs stared at Jin Guangshan in disbelief and Jiang Fengmian simply looked around with faint surprise, the Lan and Nie representatives accepted the announcement with grace and acceptance; and, with the prickly fury radiating from Madame Jin, nobody wanted to speak up to invoke her wrath. 

“Sounds great,” Mingjue shattered the tense violence, grinning at his once-aide. “Congrats, A-Yao.”

“Thank you, Sect Leader, I shall never forget your kindness,” Jin Guangyao said, his large eyes genuinely warm. 

“Bah, I told you to call me _Da-ge_ , everyone else does,” Mingjue chuckled, and the new Jin heir smiled back.

“Should you need anything, A-Yao, feel free to ask,” Xichen beamed brightly like a full moon on a dark night.

“Thank you, Young Master Lan,” Jin Guangyao bowed again, looking flustered at the kindness being shown to him. 

“Please, Xichen is fine,” Lan Qiren watched as his nephew rose to pull the younger man out of his bow. 

“Thank you, Xichen-ge,” he said softly, his clear and resonant voice thick in emotion. 

Lan Qiren glanced at Jin Zixuan watched warily as he spoke with his parents, the Jin heir keeping an eye on his younger brother, making sure no harm would come to him. Jiang Wanyin had left his father’s side to speak with Jin Guangyao. 

Lan Qiren watched with a brimming pride, the new generation interacting with one another in such a warm and supportive way. He hoped with his entire being that the aura of kindness would remain as the children all grew into adulthood, and he was certain that if he were there for them, it would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason this chapter was little harder for me to write is that in the animated series, Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao is very composed and bright and poised, but in the live action Zhu ZanJin's portrayal of him is so delicate and fragile, like a harsh word would shatter him into pieces, so trying to find a happy medium for him as a character was difficult T^T 
> 
> Hopefully, his characterization isn't too out of whack ^^'
> 
> Also, I don't remember a lot of Meng Yao's backstory, and looking it up would only make me sad, so I took a couple liberties with it ^^'
> 
> As always, thank you for reading <3


	11. Lan Qiren Learns a Couple Things and Something Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren officially meets a couple of people and he suddenly has to deal with conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a LITTLE longer than I would've liked, so sorry about that T^T 
> 
> I think the end is coming up. I have a couple more chapters planned, I'll keep everyone updated ^^

The archery contest had yet to begin, so all the cultivators spent the next couple days together as guests of the Wen sect, which Lan Qiren felt tense about. He had never spent any amount of time in Qishan, but the massive stonework and the ever-present looks of disdain from the heirs made him tense. 

He wasn’t the only one on-edge either. His nephews would catch him in passing, matching looks of concern in their eyes. Wei Wuxian also would come babbling to him about how uncomfortable he was, the Wen guards constantly following the majority of the visiting disciples around, keeping them under watch. Mingjue was also on-guard, the stern draw to his brow barely ever leaving his face as they spent the next few days waiting for the contest to happen and end already. 

Lan Qiren also found himself wondering where Wen Qing and Wen Ning were. He knew they weren’t part of the main side of the Wen family, but he was surprised that he hadn’t seen them at all those days they spent in Qishan. That only made him worry more. 

Despite the fraying anxiety that filled Qishan, Lan Qiren noticed that Meng Yao was adapting well to his new life. The head of Lan frequently caught the young man by his half-brother’s side. Meng Yao had asked a few cautious questions the first day he had met Jin Zixuan, probably to test how curious he was allowed to be without irritating the heir, but --when he realized Jin Zixuan wasn’t bothered by the presence of his new sibling-- Meng Yao began asking about everything: the relationship dynamics throughout Lanling, who was related to whom, who had power in their position, who stood in lower positions, how their financial plans looked.

From what Lan Qiren could see, Jin Zixuan was happy to answer his little brother’s questions, asking for his input in return. And because of the Jin’s heir’s warmth towards his new family member and Meng Yao’s generally friendly and kind disposition, the other Jin disciples seemed comfortable enough to speak with Meng Yao as well. By the end of the third day, Meng Yao looked completely at home, another golden flower in the mass of Jin cultivators. 

“Uncle Laaaan,” Huaisang called as he walked down one of the massive stone hallways in the Wen palace, a pretty fan in hand.

“A-Sang,” he greeted as the boy reached his side and they continued walking towards one of the open courtyards in the building. “Are you well?”

“Does suffocating in this creepy place count as being well?” the Nie heir sighed dramatically, flicking out his fan and holding it in front of his face. 

“Perhaps not,” Lan Qiren assented, and the boy chuckled. “How is everyone holding up, A-Sang?”

“A lot of the other disciples are waiting for this all to be over,” he answered as reached the courtyard, still somehow gray and stony despite the plants. “A-Yao is doing well though,” he added. “Apparently, he remembers anything he hears once,” Huaisang said in a low voice, mischief in his eyes. “If Jin Zixuan and A-Yao play their cards right, they’ll be quite formidable once they inherit Lanling.”

“Does that worry you, A-Sang?” Lan Qiren asked.

“Not at all, Uncle Lan,” he said airily. “The last thing any of us want to do is disappoint you. I doubt anyone in the next generation of sect leaders will cause any conflict.”

“I’m flattered you all think so highly of me,” the head of Lan said wryly, but Huaisang must have heard the faint sound of disbelief in his voice, because the boy snapped his fan shut.

“Uncle Lan, you’re the sole reason any of us have our heads on straight,” he said sternly, becoming the lecturer in their conversation. “The last thing any of us want is for you to be ashamed of us.”

Lan Qiren couldn’t stop the smile on his face, a sensation of warmth and paternal pride blooming in his chest. He knew somewhere in his heart that the young disciples were fond of him, but it was always nice to hear of it. 

“How could I ever be ashamed of any of you?” he asked, reaching out to place a hand on Huaisang’s shoulder in fondness. “You’ve all grown up to be such good young men.”

“Stop, Uncle Lan, you’ll make me cry,” Huaisang whined.

“Nonsense, tears of happiness are a fine reason to cry,” Lan Qiren chuckled, and the Nie heir beamed up at him. 

“I’m inclined to agree,” a light and soft voice said, and both men turned to see the young lady of Yunmeng smiling at them, Jiang Yanli. “I apologize for interrupting,” she bowed her head, “but the scene was so sweet, I felt moved to intrude,” she went on, all tranquility and kindness. Lan Qiren, just looking at the young woman, suddenly understood Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin’s protectiveness of their sister.

“Not at all, Lady Jiang,” Lan Qiren bowed his head in greeting. “An honor to officially meet you,” he smiled, and she smiled back.

“The honor is mine, Master Lan,” she answered. “A-Xian and A-Cheng have told me of your kindness to them. I have always wanted to thank you for it,” she bowed deeply, and he moved to raise her out of it. 

“We all deserve basic kindness, Lady Jiang,” he said modestly, and Jiang Yanli looked up at him, her eyes bright, just like her father’s. “It is nothing to thank me for.”

“Kindness is the most wonderful gift in the world, Master Lan,” she said solemnly. “It is worth thanking.”

“I can see why they’re all so fond of you,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I trust Jin Zixuan is treating you well?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “He is a little awkward, but it’s all the more endearing.”

“That sounds about right,” Huaisang chirped, and Jiang Yanli laughed. 

“And your parents, Lady Jiang, how have they been?” Lan Qiren asked after a moment, cautious, but his worries faded away like morning dew at the shining cheer in the young woman’s eyes. 

“A-Cheng told me you had spoken with my mother, Master Lan, and I’ve never seen my parents more at ease,” she said, brimming with relief. “I’m not sure what you told her, Master Lan, but I appreciate it more than words could say,” Jiang Yanli said softly. 

“I simply eased Madame Yu in the right direction, Lady Jiang, she had the capability of handling things on her own,” he said, Huaisang disguising his scoff as a cough. 

Jiang Yanli gave him a look, somehow encapsulating disbelief, fondness, and amusement all at the same time. She would make a wonderful lady of Jin someday, a presence that Lanling sorely needed, at least. 

“Shijie!” 

The trio all turned to see Wei Wuxian dart into the courtyard, coming to an abrupt stop and giving his clan sister a gentle hug, and she laughed as he did so. Wangji trailed after his fiancé, greeting his uncle and his soon-to-be brother-in-law, then gazed at Jiang Yanli.

“Lady Jiang,” he greeted with a low bow, and Lan Qiren felt a twinge of nervousness coming from his younger nephew. 

“Young Master Lan,” she greeted him warmly, sincerely, and Wei Wuxian grinned. 

“So formal, Lan Zhan!” he declared, one arm still around his sister, reaching one hand out to his fiancé. “My shijie is your shijie, right, Shijie?” he stated, looking at her, and she burst out into a litany of giggles. 

“Of course, I’d be honored to be your shijie, Young Master Lan,” she smiled, reaching her own hand out to Lan Qiren’s stoic nephew. “Thank you for making A-Xian so happy.”

“Mn,” Wangji’s eyes lit up, a warm honey gold. “Shijie brought Wei Ying happiness first.”

“Lan Zhaaaann,” Wei Wuxian’s cheeks burned red as he hurled himself at Wangji, who simply caught him as always, still reaching one hand out to take Jiang Yanli’s. “You can’t be this sweet, I’ll die,” he whined into the taller boy’s chest.

“Wei Ying won’t die, I won’t allow it,” Wangji answered earnestly, protective. 

Lan Qiren watched in amusement. It seemed that Jiang Yanli had never experienced the constant brazen flirtations of his nephew and nephew-to-be in person before, because she gazed at them in surprise then at him, as if to see if it were all right for them to act so lovey-dovey in front of him. He smiled back at her with a faint shrug, and she laughed. 

It seemed that the tension had alleviated somewhat as he spent time around the young cultivators, though Lan Qiren found that once night arrived and he was alone in his own private quarters, the anxiety had returned, with nothing else to fill his thoughts. 

He sighed, preparing to meditate and banish the worries away, but a knock sounded at his door. Lan Qiren froze for a moment, wondering who was calling on him so late. He had already said good night to his nephews, his nephews-to-be, and every other young man he had taken under his wing. He had a fleeting thought that it would be Wen Ruohan, but even he wouldn’t be able to wander around without getting seen in his own home.

Not sensing any negative intentions, Lan Qiren opened the door, quite surprised to see Wen Zhuliu standing at his doorway, that placid expression on his face, looking faintly apologetic. The head of Lan blinked in surprise, then waved for him to come in, in case the man was actively avoiding being seen. 

“Is everything all right, Wen Zhuliu?” he asked cautiously as the man bowed his head and walked into the room, Lan Qiren closing the door behind him. 

“Yes, Master Lan, Sect Leader Wen simply wished to pass this to you,” he answered in a blunt manner, handing Lan Qiren a letter with both hands, bowing very low. 

“I... you came all the way here to give this to me?” Lan Qiren blinked, confused.

“Sect Leader Wen does not wish to be seen here, but my presence does not surprise anyone,” the taller man rumbled in his deep voice. 

“Have you been running between Qishan and Wen Ruohan, Wen Zhuliu?” the older man asked, worry tinging his voice.

“I am often in and out in Qishan, so no one questions me, Master Lan,” he answered. “I worry about Sect Leader Wen if I am away from him too long.”

“Why?” Lan Qiren asked, baffled that one of the most capable cultivators in his generation would need a bodyguard. 

“He often gets caught in strange situations,” Wen Zhuliu answered, back still ramrod straight. “Sect Leader Wen’s curiosity is very... strong.”

Lan Qiren sighed, the image of Wen Ruohan getting caught up in something completely bizarre out of boredom was something that made far too much sense to him. The next time he saw Wen Ruohan he would need to talk some sense into the man. It was fine to get into trouble on his own, but troubling his adopted son with it wasn’t the way to go about things. 

“Well, thank you, Wen Zhuliu, I apologize on behalf of my senior for all the trouble,” he said, but the young man’s brow furrowed.

“It is no trouble, Master Lan, I owe Sect Leader Wen my life. I am happy to assist him in any way I can,” he said earnestly. 

“He does thank you, doesn’t he?” Lan Qiren squinted, and Wen Zhuliu smiled for the first time in front of him, surprisingly soft and gentle from such a strong-featured man. 

“I assure you, Master Lan, Sect Leader Wen is very kind to me,” he said warmly. “If I may be so bold, the only other person he is kind to is you, Master Lan,” Wen Zhuliu said in a voice that sounded amused. 

“He is shameless,” Lan Qiren blustered, far too sober to talk to Wen Ruohan’s adopted son about his father figure’s public flirting. In his defense though, Wen Ruohan only flirted with him out of sight. 

“If I may be frank, Master Lan, he is serious,” Wen Zhuliu bowed his head, his expression stone-like and earnest once again. “I have lived with Sect Leader Wen for twenty years now, and I have never seen him so soft than when he is with you.”

“Wen Zhuliu, really--” Lan Qiren began, but the man shook his head

“I have wanted to thank you for bringing light into Sect Leader Wen’s eyes, Master Lan,” he said, stern, with intent to be heard and understood. 

“I... You are welcome, Wen Zhuliu, though I doubt it was anything on my part,” he answered a touch doubtful of his own influence on the Wen leader, but Wen Zhuliu chuckled quietly. 

“Sect Leader Wen waxes poetic about you, Master Lan,” he smiled widely. “He appreciates your honesty with him. Many have been false with him all throughout his life, but Sect Leader Wen knows you would never be.”

Lan Qiren flushed, embarrassed that Wen Ruohan apparently told his adopted son about him, but a buzzing pride fluttered in his chest at the notion of being special to his senior. He quickly stamped away the happiness before it could show on his face, though --from the look on Wen Zhuliu’s face-- Lan Qiren hadn’t quite succeeded. 

“Will you wait while I read his letter and write out a response, Wen Zhuliu?” Lan Qiren asked, and felt a sense of anticipation and dread fill him at the young man’s face suddenly burning red. 

“I... think it best you read the letter alone, Master Lan,” he said, excusing himself quickly and leaving.

Well, now Lan Qiren was afraid to read the letter. He placed it on the desk near his mattress, then stared at it for far longer than he should have. Lan Qiren removed his outer robes to settle in to sleep, lying down and trying his best to let sleep overtake him, but his mind wouldn’t let him. 

He groaned quietly and sat up, staring at the letter like it had verbally insulted him. His face burning hot enough to boil water for tea, Lan Qiren opened the letter. 

Lan Qiren found it very difficult to fall asleep that night.

“Uncle, you look exhausted, did you not sleep well?” Xichen’s musical and soft voice surprised Lan Qiren as he stared at his cooling breakfast the next morning.

“Xichen..!” he flinched, almost knocking his tea over, alarming his elder nephew.

“Uncle, are you okay? Do you feel ill?” Xichen reached out to steady the teacup and his uncle. “Shall I call for a doctor?”

“I am all right, Xichen,” Lan Qiren lied to his nephew, feeling horribly about it, but knowing he would take the truth to his grave. “Really, don’t worry,” he said, hoping his face would remain the way it was and not as red as it was the majority of the night. 

“Are you sure, Uncle?” he asked, the ever-loving nephew, concern lacing his brow, and Lan Qiren felt horrendously about making Xichen so worried.

“Truly, Xichen, I’m all right,” he smiled as reassuringly as he could. It looked like his nephew didn’t believe him, but let it be. 

“If you need anything, Uncle, please call me or Wangji,” Xichen smiled at him and left to speak with his brother.

Lan Qiren smiled after him, but --like the entirety of that morning-- his memories kept reaching back to the contents of Wen Ruohan’s letter, things that should not be remembered in daylight or in front of other people. Lan Qiren couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt so flustered for such a long time. 

He hoped that Wen Ruohan would appear before him so he could slap the man for distracting him like this. A part of his mind was endlessly pleased and flattered at the attention, but the other part, the proud Lan part, was yelling at him and reciting the Wall of Discipline at full volume. 

Before he could ruminate any further, a Wen disciple called for attention, announcing that the archery contest would be starting soon. 

The competition began without a hitch, the colorful signals of Gusu, Yunmeng, Nie, Jin, and Wen lighting the sky as cultivators ran around, striking down the monsters running amok in the wildlands outside the main seating area. Lan Qiren watched from the forests, roaming around to make sure the weaker cultivators wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

Xichen had acted as the Lan representative in the judging area, seated beside Mingjue. Lan Qiren was confident that the Wens wouldn’t do anything too suspicious with Xichen, Mingjue, Jiang Fengmian, and Jin Zixuan watching. 

Lan Qiren blinked, seeing a white flash in the corner of his eye, and looked to see a rabbit grazing in a small clearing, looking completely at ease. He smiled, kneeling beside it, holding a hand out to it. 

Wangji had started a little rabbit farm near the Cold Springs with Wei Wuxian several weeks ago. His nephew had come to him with averted eyes, telling him he needed to be punished for keeping pets in Gusu. Lan Qiren had only waved him off, giving him a loophole: rabbits didn’t necessarily have to be considered pets. Wangji had smiled at him, thanking him, and leaving.

Days later, Wei Wuxian had proudly come to him with Wangji at his side and an armful of rabbits in his arms, claiming, “Uncle Lan! These are our children! You’re a grandfather now, isn’t that great?” Lan Qiren had delighted in seeing Wangji’s ears flush pink and hearing Wei Wuxian’s laughter filling the air. 

He had become fond of them after that, playing with them when he had rare free time. Lan Qiren liked to bring the younger cultivators there to relax and learn of the value of life.

“Hello, little one,” he cooed softly, the rabbit sniffing at his hand then leaping into his arms without a worry in the world. “Well, aren’t you cute?” Lan Qiren smiled softly, stroking the rabbit between the ears, its leg thumping in delight. “Unlike a certain someone I know,” he sighed.

“I hope you aren’t talking about me, Qiren,” that playful voice that had haunted Lan Qiren’s dreams all night suddenly said from behind him, and the head of Lan almost cried out in surprise, but refrained from doing so so that the rabbit wouldn’t startle. 

“ _ You shameless pervert, how could you send Wen Zhuliu to deliver that for you! _ ” Lan Qiren hissed quietly, the rabbit still relaxed in his arms. 

“Are you upset that I sent it in the first place or that I sent someone else to deliver it in my place?” Wen Ruohan inquired, leaning against a tree, that handsome grin on his face, and Lan Qiren found himself distracted by his senior’s lips. “Besides, Zhuliu’s a good man. He wouldn’t read nor give up my mail.”

“That is beside the point, you are ridiculous!”

“You look tired, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan said abruptly, walking forward and tucking his finger under Lan Qiren’s chin, tilting his face up to get a better look at it. “Did my letter keep you up last night?” he asked.

Instead of looking amused, however, he looked worried, which surprised Lan Qiren.

“I didn’t mean to steal your rest from you, Qiren,” he said softly, pressing apologetic kisses to his forehead and cheek, that fluttering sensation Lan Qiren had begun to associate with his senior unapologetically beating around his chest. 

“Well, you did,” Lan Qiren said, annoyed that he had responded so childishly, but something about Wen Ruohan brought out his childish side. 

“I’m sorry, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan mumbled softly, his hand carding through Lan Qiren’s hair, carefully avoiding his headband, which Lan Qiren was unbearably touched by. “Will you forgive me?” he asked, pulling back to gaze down at him with those warm maroon eyes. When had he begun to think  _ Wen Ruohan looked warm? _

“I’ll forgive you this time,” Lan Qiren frowned, pressing his forehead against Wen Ruohan’s wonderfully broad chest, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. 

“I’m such a lucky man,” Wen Ruohan laughed, rubbing circles in Lan Qiren’s back with one hand, the other one petting the rabbit still peacefully nestled in Lan Qiren’s arms. 

“Uncle!” Xichen’s panicked voice shattered the softness in the air between them, and Lan Qiren broke away from Wen Ruohan’s embrace, his senior looking up in alarm as Xichen appeared from behind a tree. The sudden appearance of a new person had scared the rabbit off, the rustling of grass and trees trailing away as the rabbit ran. 

“Xichen, what is it?” Lan Qiren asked, grabbing his nephew’s shoulders, Xichen’s eyes wide with fear and terror, his body trembling. “Xichen, what’s happened?”

“Uncle-I- I don’t, Wangji, and Wuxian- they’re- I can’t--” he stammered, his eyes rimmed red in panic.

“Young Master Lan, take a breath, everything will be all right,” Wen Ruohan said softly, reaching out to take one of Xichen’s hands, and Lan Qiren could feel the warm burst of Wen Ruohan’s qi filling the air, soothing anything it touched.

“I... thank you, Sect Leader Wen,” Xichen breathed shakily, ignoring why the long-missing sect leader was here with his uncle at this moment. “Uncle,” he turned his eyes back to Lan Qiren. 

“Wangji and Wuxian have been trapped in a cave, Jiang Wanyin and Jin Zixuan managed to escape, but there are far too many Wens who caved in the entrance who won’t let them back in to help,” Xichen said desperately. “Uncle, there’s a beast in there.”

“The cave to the southwest of here?” Wen Ruohan asked, his tone suddenly deadly serious.

“Yes, Sect Leader Wen.”

“The Tortoise of Slaughter is in there, Qiren,” the sect leader said, turning his eyes to Lan Qiren, looking solemn. “As strong as your nephew and Jiang Fengmian’s ward are, they may not be strong enough to hold that off on their own. I’ll go help them,” he said, moving to assist.

“U-Uncle!”

They all turned to see someone trembling in the bush, and the person peered up through the leaves. 

“A-Ning?” Wen Ruohan’s brow furrowed as his nephew darted into his arms. “What happened? Are you all right?” he pulled back to look at the boy, flinching in anger upon seeing how injured his nephew was, one of his eyes swollen, his arm and leg bleeding. “Who hurt you?” he demanded. 

“U-Uncle, Xu-ge and Chao-ge came to our village,” he sniffed, his big eyes watery, a cut on his temple trickling blood down his temple. “They brought monsters to kill us. Jiejie stayed behind to keep everyone safe, but she sent me to go look for help,” he shivered. “Uncle, please, they won’t be safe for long.”

“They did what?” Wen Ruohan asked quietly, a murderous aura radiating off him in waves. 

“I’m not sure why, Uncle, please, we don’t have time,” Wen Ning pleaded desperately, looking terrified for his life. “Please, Grandfather Four has already lost a leg,” his lip trembled, looking like he was ready to cry. 

“Sorry, Qiren, but I...” Wen Ruohan looked at Lan Qiren.

Lan Qiren swallowed, trying to think. He had to go help Wangji and Wei Wuxian. The thought of them being alone in the cave with a beast of legend terrified him. But he knew they were capable enough to hold off until someone came to help them. Lan Qiren knew nothing about Wen Ning’s situation, but it sounded like an entire village was in trouble and their only current defense was Wen Qing, a strong woman and competent doctor in her own right, but by no means strong enough to fight off a legion of beasts on his own.

Wen Ruohan was indeed one of the strongest cultivators in the world right now, but if he had to defend an entire village and fight off a group of monsters on his own while worrying about his injured nephew and possibly-injured niece, even he might not be able to handle it all on his own. 

“Master Lan, Xichen-ge!”

The four of them turned in the other direction as Jiang Yanli approached them, with Jin Zixuan at her side, bleeding from a wound in his side. Her soft voice had hardened with determination and righteous fury, looking like her mother.

“Zixuan has told me what happened, and now this person says his village is in danger?” she asked, looking at Wen Ning, her eyes softening as she did. 

“That seems to be the case, Lady Jiang,” Xichen said, looking back and forth, anxious to do something.

“Master Lan, why don’t you go with Sect Leader Wen to this young man’s village?” Jiang Yanli quickly took control of the situation, seeming to read the panic that had taken over both Lans. “Xichen-ge can call Sect Leader Nie, and Zixuan and I will bring father and A-Cheng, and we can all go to this cave together to retreive A-Xian and Wangji. We all are able to handle the situation; so, don’t worry and go with Wen Ruohan,” she said sharply, eyes blazing. “Is this plan agreeable with everyone?” Jiang Yanli asked, Jin Zixuan staring at her with hearts in his eyes.

“Yes, that works for me,” Xichen quickly sent out a qi butterfly for his fiancé. “Uncle, is that all right with you?” he asked, Shuoyue whipping out of its sheath with a ringing sound and Xichen quickly floating on top of his sword, ready to fly off. 

“Yes, it does,” Lan Qiren quickly snapped out of his anxious descent, relieved that Jiang Yanli had been able to calmly assess what was happening. “Thank you, Lady Jiang, I’m sorry for being useless at this junction,” he apologized, and she shook her head, taking his hands in her own small delicate ones. 

“Of course you’re flustered right now, Master Lan. Wangji and A-Xian are in danger and Xichen-ge is radiating worry. You love all of them, there is no doubt you would be terrified right now. Not to mention the threat that looms this young man’s village,” she rationalized. “Besides, Zixuan told me as we came to find you, I had a little more time to process everything,” Jiang Yanli smiled reassuringly. “Now, let’s go. There’s no time to waste,” she said, and with that, the three of them took off.

“She’s quite capable, isn’t she?” Wen Ruohan remarked, looking faintly impressed as he easily helped Wen Ning onto his back, careful not to jostle his injuries, and mounting his own sword. “Shall we go, Qiren?” he asked, looking back at the head of Lan.

“Yes, we shall,” Lan Qiren mounted his own sword. “Where is Wen Zhuliu?” he inquired as they darted through the chilled air.

“He’s nearby, I’ll dispatch him to take care of the people causing problems in front of the cave,” Wen Ruohan answered, sending off his own qi butterfly. “If he has time, he can meet us at the village.”

“Uncle...” Wen Ning mumbled weakly.

“Save your strength, A-Ning,” Wen Ruohan said softly, gazing back at his nephew. 

“No, Uncle, be careful,” Wen Ning coughed weakly. “I think Xu-ge and Chao-ge are plotting against you,” he said, and Lan Qiren’s brow furrowed, a million thoughts thrumming through his mind. 

“They can try,” Wen Ruohan said darkly, his anger flickering to life, and Lan Qiren felt no desire to quell it. 

If those boys had a hand in trapping Wangji and Wei Wuxian in that cave, on top of threatening Wen Qing and Wen Ning, Wen Ruohan would have to stop Lan Qiren from killing them outright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... a lot of things happened in this chapter
> 
> I've been writing "Lan" and "Wen" so much, I worry I may accidently type "Lan Wuohan" or "Wen Qiren" at some point and not notice >v<
> 
> I absolutely did NOT write Wen Ruohan's letter to Lan Qiren (which I imagine to be like an ancient version of a sext that's written in essay format), because I think I would be embarrassed to death and I'm too shy to write anything at that level yet >///< Also, the imagination is way stronger than anything I could come up with, right? ^^'  
> Maybe I'll add it on as an extra chapter, like the Incense Chapter in the MDZS novel? We'll see :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always <3 I adore you all!


	12. Lan Qiren and Wen Ruohan Fight Some Fierce Corpses and Get Yelled at by the Wen Heirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan Qiren and Wen Ruohan go to help Wen Ning's family held captive, but will it go as easily as they like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, ya'll >,<
> 
> I count one more chapter after this and then an epilogue
> 
> But until then, I hope the rest of the story is able to meet your expectations ^^
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always <3

Wen Ning pointed them in the direction of the Burial Mounds where the Wen heirs had cornered his entire village. Even from the distance they were, Lan Qiren could hear beasts going on a rampage. He glanced at Wen Ruohan, his expression dark and angry. 

He had never seen so much fury radiating from the Wen sect leader before. They were never close as children, but he had seen Wen Ruohan growing up through the years, and the man always had some coy or aloof expression, cold, irreverent, as if nothing could move him. 

They descended nearby, on a higher hill to look down and observe what was going on. It appeared that an entire group of ghosts had mobbed around Wen Ning’s village, the only thing keeping them from being attacked was a talisman barrier of sorts, looking to be designed by Wen Qing. 

She looked worse for the wear, several cuts and slashes across her arms and torso, scratches on her face. Lan Qiren could tell that she had been keeping the barrier up for too long, the aura glowing from the talismans fading with her stamina. 

“Jiejie--” Wen Ning tried to move forward, but his uncle pulled him back.

“You’re in no shape to help A-Qing,” Wen Ruohan stated sternly. “Wait here and tend to your injuries, A-Ning. Qiren,” he looked at the head of Lan, “could you soothe the ghosts?”

“Of course,” Lan Qiren huffed, and with a sweep of his sleeves, his guqin appeared. 

With a flick of his fingers, Lan Qiren filled the air with the calming melody of Rest, the groaning and moaning of the ghosts quickly quieting. Wen Ruohan pressed a brief, thankful kiss against the crown of his head as he flew down to where the villagers were, easily incapacitating a good chunk of the ghosts. 

The soft and soothing notes of Rest also helped circulate Wen Ning’s qi, so the boy was slowly healing beside him. Lan Qiren continued to play, watching from afar as Wen Ruohan helped clear a line of ghosts, checking to see if the villagers were all right. The head of Lan looked to his side to see that Wen Ning had fallen asleep, whether out of exhaustion or from Rest, he couldn’t quite tell. 

Lan Qiren could see Wen Qing’s shoulders relax ever so slightly at the sight of her uncle, but she suddenly asked something, looking worried. Wen Ruohan nodded, and his niece suddenly shouted something, her wide eyes darting back and forth in alarm. 

Suddenly, the earth began to rumble and Lan Qiren turned to see a horde of what looked to be fierce corpses rampaging down the hills, towards the village all huddled at the base of the mountains. His eyes met Wen Ruohan’s in alarm, and Lan Qiren changed his song to that of Sound of Vanquish. 

A more powerful musical technique of Gusu, the Sound of Vanquish was one of the hardest ones to master properly. Xichen had mastered it at sixteen, Wangji had mastered it at fourteen, and Lan Qiren had mastered it at twelve. 

His fingers splayed against the seven strings of his guqin, a wave of his qi blazing over the heads of all the fierce corpses. Some fell immediately, others slowed, but they were all at least affected. Several stumbled, several stalled, and several straight-up froze in their spots. Wen Ruohan immediately rushed out to cut them down in his graceful manner of fighting, a dance of severed limbs and spurting blood. 

Lan Qiren kept playing, changing his notes to blades of qi that cut down any fierce corpses that approached Wen Ruohan’s blind spots. It had been a long time since he'd had to do battle, but Lan Qiren was glad to see that he hadn’t grown rusty in his lack of practice. 

He had gotten so distracted from fighting off what looked to be hordes and hordes of fierce corpses that kept coming out of the thick forests, that he hadn’t noticed anyone sneaking up behind him. 

A sharp piercing pain struck straight through him, and Lan Qiren cried out in surprise, his fingers stopping, all music halting other than the discordant thrash of his hands suddenly splaying against the strings. Lan Qiren looked to see a bloodied blade cutting straight through his abdomen, then vanishing as it was pulled right back through his body, a second sensation of blazing agony wracking through his body. 

He groaned, quickly channeling his qi there to stop the bleeding before anything could take too much damage. Lan Qiren looked to see Wen Xu standing over him, triumphantly, Wen Chao tying up and gagging Wen Ning who had woken up in a panic.

Lan Qiren moved to fight them off, but Wen Xu had pulled out his own guqin, playing what sounded like a warped version of Sound of Vanquish. How the man had even learned the song enough to bastardize it, Lan Qiren would not understand. He attempted to use his own qi to retaliate, but realized with a cold horror that it had been sealed in his Golden Core, and he couldn’t pull it back out no matter how much he tried. 

Somehow, Wen Xu had sealed his qi away, and from the feeling in the air, it felt as if Wen Ruohan’s qi had been sucked back into his own Golden Core. 

“Hey, Father!” Wen Chao called out, holding up a metal piece of iron, the hordes of fierce corpses stopping in their tracks, and Lan Qiren realized with a frigid chill down his spine that it was the Yin Iron. 

Wen Ruohan looked up in confusion, then anger overtook his features as he took in the situation. He glared up at his sons, waiting for them to say anything. 

The Wen sons gathered them all at the bottom of the hills with the captive villagers, the fierce corpses waiting all around them like statues. Wen Ruohan gazed at his sons with the coldest expression Lan Qiren had seen in a while, but the Wen sect leader’s eyes turned back to that soft and warm maroon Lan Qiren was familiar with as he approached. 

“Qiren,” Wen Ruohan opened his arms to him, the head of Lan not even bothering with propriety anymore as he walked into his senior’s embrace, his hand pressed over his wound which had stopped bleeding but had bled through his white robes. “I’m so sorry,” Wen Ruohan mumbled softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s my fault you’re hurt.”

“No, it’s your son’s fault,” Lan Qiren scoffed, stepping back. “Is everyone all right?” he asked Wen Ruohan, his own eyes sweeping over the captive village, noticing a small boy clinging to Wen Qing’s robes, looking terrified. 

“Alive,” Wen Ruohan mumbled quietly, looking frustrated with himself, then turned back to his sons, his eyes blazing ice and vicious fury. “What is the meaning of all this?” he demanded in a quiet voice, the air itself snapping colder. 

“What, Father, you’re not proud of us for actually taking the initiative for once?” Wen Xu asked with a cruel smirk. 

“I’ve never been proud of you two,” Wen Ruohan responded flatly, and --though Lan Qiren had quite the amount of disdain for the Wen heirs-- the head of Lan did think the response was a little harsh. “You both had everything handed to you your entire lives. Your mother doted on you. You grew up selfish and spoiled, neither of you ever listened to what I had to say and you both wreak havoc without ever thinking of how your actions affect others.

“How could I, as a man and as your father, possibly be proud of you?” Wen Ruohan snapped, eyes flashing like cold fire. Lan Qiren understood, a little better, Wen Ruohan’s resentment of his children. 

“Nothing ever made you happy, Father!” Wen Chao argued. “We spent our whole lives watching you walk around like nothing ever mattered to you, and then we hear that you’ve been flirting with LAN QIREN, OF ALL PEOPLE?!” he shrieked, gesturing at the head of Lan who had already grown bored of this Wen family drama and moved to check on the injured villagers.

“Lan Qiren is not the first nor only person I care about,” Wen Ruohan answered calmly, but Lan Qiren felt that heavy gaze on him, and he turned to see his senior’s earnest gaze, “but he is the first and only person I have ever felt like  _ myself _ around,” he said softly, a faint smile on his face, and Lan Qiren shook his head fondly, as he turned back to the little boy next to Wen Qing, Wen Ruohan’s conversation with his sons going on as a background noise. 

“Are you all right, little one?” he asked softly, kneeling beside them, glancing at Wen Qing and smiling at her as reassuringly as he could. She smiled back, looking tired and anxious, reaching out as Wen Ning sat beside her, still bound and gagged. Her eyes flashed in anger, then worry, then exhaustion. 

“Mn... I’m scared,” the boy mumbled, big eyes watering.

“Everything will be okay, do not fret,” Lan Qiren smiled at him, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I promise. What is your name, young man?”

“Mn, Wen Yuan,” he said proudly, his small chest puffing up in pride. 

“Well then, A-Yuan, will you say with me that we’re going to be okay?” Lan Qiren asked, smiling.

“Mn,” he nodded, his expression bright and serious. “Everything will be okay,” they both said in unison. 

“Good,” Lan Qiren said kindly. 

“Master Lan, let me check your wound,” Wen Qing moved to help him, but he stopped her.

“I am fine, Lady Wen, do not worry,” he said. “Rest, regain your energy. Or focus it on Young Master Wen,” he gestured to Wen Ning, Wen Qing nodding once and quickly unbinding her little brother and removing the gag from his mouth.

“Sorry, Jiejie, I couldn’t do anything,” he apologized immediately, and she hugged him. 

“You brought Uncle and Master Lan back with you, don’t be foolish,” Wen Qing said softly.

“We threatened A-Qing and A-Ning because of you, Father!” Wen Chao’s incessant screaming brought Lan Qiren’s attention back to them. “You always favored them over us!”

“What do you intend to gain after all this?” Wen Ruohan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“Simple, Father,” Wen Xu clapped his hands together. “We will kill you and everyone else here, and A-Chao and I will use the Yin Iron to take over all the other sects.”

Lan Qiren blinked, staring at them in thought. Where did their confidence come from? As large as the Wen sect was, against the might and number of all the other sects, they wouldn’t make it through unscathed. There would be plenty of issues in challenging all four other sects in taking power. Lan Qiren wasn’t sure if their certainty came from ignorance or simple confidence. 

“And you two think that you can pull that off on your own?” Wen Ruohan arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And, pray tell, if you do manage to do all that, how do you intend to handle the financial systems of all five sects? Managing land disputes and trading routes and marketing prices and cultivation practices, as well as addressing the needs of all the people and the agricultural demands that different crops need to produce properly during these times of droughts and overflooding?” he asked, eyes narrowed and annoyed.

Lan Qiren almost rolled his eyes at the faint look of panic on the Wen heirs’ faces. Of course they hadn’t thought about all the components of leading a sect, much less taking over all of them. 

“We’ll worry about that when we get there, Father, how hard could it possibly be?” Wen Xu sneered, and Lan Qiren was very close to slapping the boy across the face. “Besides, it’s not like you can do anything right now anyway. Until I lift the spell, everyone here except me and A-Chao has lost use of their qi. A-Qing can’t even heal anyone anymore,” he cooed, his cousin’s eyes brimming in sheer anger. “And what good is a doctor who can’t heal anyone?”

“Coward,” she hissed. 

“Brave final words,” Wen Chao snickered. “But useless! Nobody can save you now,” he turned to his father, lashing his sword against Wen Ruohan, slashing the front of his chest, cutting through his robes and into his torso, blood spurting forth from the wound. He fell to his knees in surprise. 

“Wen Ruohan!” Lan Qiren cried out, rushing over, trying to stem the bleeding. 

Wen Qing quickly moved as well after placing A-Yuan in Wen Ning’s lap, darting over to her uncle, using the tattered parts of his clothes to bind the deep gash.

“It’s worse than it looks, don’t worry,” Wen Ruohan said as Lan Qiren helped him sit up. “Sorry for dragging you into this, Qiren,” he added softly, his hand cupping Lan Qiren’s cheek, then falling back down to his chest. “And you, A-Qing,” he turned to his niece who was quickly and efficiently tending to his wound. “I had hoped not to get your side of the family caught up in all this.”

“You’ve only ever taken care of us, Uncle, you have nothing to apologize for,” she said bluntly, her eyes rimmed red, still tending to his wounds. 

“You should’ve gone to help your nephews, Qiren, I’m sorry,” Wen Ruohan mumbled, turning those beautiful eyes back to him. 

“Stop apologizing, you’re scaring me, Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren cleared his throat, trying his best not to show the fear trickling into his chest, to inject his tone with humor, but Wen Ruohan’s hands felt cold on his and it was scaring him. 

“Sorry, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan chuckled, wincing slightly. “I mean it though. You should be with the people you love, not stuck here with me and my ridiculous progeny,” he said.

“I am,” Lan Qiren said before he could change his mind, swallowing, forcing his pride and his anxiety away. Wen Ruohan looked up at him with a confused expression, so Lan Qiren cleared his throat and spoke again. “I am here with the people I love,” he clarified, biting his lip. 

“You love my niece and nephew? I’m happy to hear it, Qiren, I didn’t know you were all so close,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding completely serious, and the head of Lan saw Wen Qing roll her eyes so hard, they almost rolled off her face. Lan Qiren supposed it was his fault. It wasn’t as if he were ever affectionate with the man.

So, rather than say it again and hope his senior understood it this time, Lan Qiren leaned down and kissed him. His lips tingled at the touch, an electric shock sparking through the entirety of his body, from his fingers down to his toes, and a feeling washed over him: the feeling of returning home after a long journey abroad. 

It was a brief kiss, what with the situation at hand, but it was sweet and soft and warm and full of promise, and --when Lan Qiren pulled away-- Wen Ruohan looked up at him with a starstruck smile that made butterflies flutter all through the head of Lan’s chest.

“I am here with the people I love, Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren repeated quietly.

“I sincerely hope that wasn’t our last kiss, Qiren,” his senior whispered softly, reaching up, his thumb tracing Lan Qiren’s lower lip tenderly. 

“ _ I _ hope it  _ was _ !” the Wen sons both declared in disgust at the same time.

“Our next kiss better not have so many spectators,” Lan Qiren sighed, looking back at Wen Ruohan. 

“Our next one?” the Wen sect leader asked hopefully.

“Not the time, Uncle,” Wen Qing groaned, finishing tending to her lovesick uncle’s wounds. “We need to get out of here first.”

“As much as I would love to, A-Qing,” Wen Ruohan gingerly sat up, Lan Qiren helping him, “all our qi seems to be locked away, and there’s an army of fierce corpses ready at my sons’ beck and call. I don’t quite know how we’re going to get out of here,” he said ruefully. 

“You’re very calm about this, Uncle,” Wen Qing frowned, Wen Ning looking back and forth between them, anxiously playing with A-Yuan’s hair. 

“Well, Zhuliu should be here any moment,” Wen Ruohan sighed, leaning his weight against Lan Qiren, nuzzling against his chin, sighing in comfort. “Though, even he won’t be able to handle all this on his own.”

“So, why the confidence, Wen Ruohan?” Lan Qiren asked, and his senior smiled.

“I’m not the only one with someone who cares about him, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan chuckled, and a thick static suddenly filled the air as a flash of purple lightning shattered across the sky.

They all looked up to see their very own army of saviors flying over the hill, swords gleaming, weapons flashing. The Wen boys screamed in surprise, using the Yin Iron to bring the fierce corpses back into action, their ugly groans echoing around the valley. 

Madame Yu ripped through a line of fierce corpses with Zidian sparking and shrieking through the air. Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Wanyin fought at her side, purple robes fluttering around them as they did so, father and son moving in tandem grace while the lady of Yunmeng ripped viciously through the corpses advancing on them. 

The familiar broad shape of Baxia whirred down into the crowd of ghosts, spinning through bodies and limbs and heads, as Nie Mingjue flew down, punching his massive fists through the heads of some of the corpses, Lan Qiren’s heart soaring at the sight of his nephew-in-law-to-be.

As if on cue, two harmonious Sounds of Vanquish sang through the valley at once, and the head of Lan recognized the airy notes of Liebing and the aloof song of Wangji. He looked up to see his nephews floating on their swords, playing their songs side by side, the resentful energy in the fierce corpses dimming down. 

Lan Qiren also saw Wei Wuxian flying by on Suibian, launching talismans all over the place, exploding on impact, leaving bits and pieces of corpses flying about, the young man’s laughter filling the air. Jin Zixuan sat beside him on the sword, batting away any corpses that approached them. Lan Qiren could see that both young men were injured, but the injuries didn’t seem life-threatening. 

He could also see the broad and strong figure of Wen Zhuliu darting in and out of the crowd of corpses, thrusting his hands through their chests, his hand glowing hot red as he did so. Lan Qiren had heard rumors of him being able to melt Golden Cores with his bare hands, but he had no idea if those rumors had held any weight.

“I told you, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan’s voice caught his attention again, and he looked to see the Wen sect leader gazing fondly at him.

“Yes, yes, you did,” he chuckled.

“This is all your fault, Lan Qiren!” Wen Xu roared, turning to them, raising his sword.

Wen Ruohan and Wen Qing moved to defend the head of Lan, but someone else moved faster than they did.

A swift blow from the hilt of a sword knocked straight into Wen Xu’s head sent him tumbling over, unconscious, Meng Yao appearing behind him. He smiled at them, bowing in greeting. Wen Chao lunged up behind him in anger, but a pair of slender arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing until the younger Wen heir fell unconscious beside his brother.

“That’s enough out of you two!” Huaisang declared, removing his arms from Wen Chao’s person, grimacing at the man. 

“A-Sang?” Lan Qiren blinked at him in bewilderment. “When did you learn how to do something like that?”

“A-Yao taught me!” he answered brightly, Meng Yao flushing in faint embarrassment. “If you would, A-Yao,” he gestured to the masses of fierce corpses still fighting the cultivators.

“It would be my honor,” Meng Yao answered, taking the Yin Iron out of Wen Xu’s hand and moving to a small clearing, creating a handful of talismans, all different in design.

“How did you all find us?” Lan Qiren asked as Huaisang sat beside them, looking at Lan Qiren’s injury. 

“It’s a bit of a long story, Uncle Lan,” Huaisang sighed, as if talking about a story in an opera he had attended. “I would love to explain it all to you the second we get out of here.

“But! Everyone is accounted for and safe,” he smiled cheerfully. “With Wen Zhuliu’s help, we got Wuxian and Wangji out of that cave. They even made a friend in there, some kid named Mo Xuanyu? That’s also a long story, the shortened version being, he’s yet _ another _ son of Jin Guangshan whose mother died a little while ago and whose extended family kicked him out of the house for  _ ‘being a disappointment’ _ , whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“Anyway, Wuxian and Wangji found him in the cave, poor little thing almost starving to death. Turns out he had been trapped in there by the Wens by request of the Mo family, which is a whole entirely different story I will also tell you about later,” he rambled off, re-wrapping Lan Qiren’s wound efficiently. 

“Mo Xuanyu is with Jiang Yanli right now who is nursing him back to health as we speak,” he continued. “By the time we all got in the cave, Wuxian and Wangji had already fought off the giant monster inside and were trying to help Mo Xuanyu. 

“Da-ge and Xichen-ge met us at the cave with the Jiang family and Zixuan, and that’s where we ran into Wen Zhuliu who led us all here,” Huaisang finished explaining. “Any questions?”

“Uh..?” Wen Ruohan held up a hand, looking back and forth between Huaisang and Lan Qiren in confusion. 

“I’ll explain it all later, I assure you, Uncle Wen,” the Nie heir waved his hands airily, “but for now, we’ve got to get all these corpses cleaned up and all these lovely people somewhere safe and attend to any and all injuries,” he stood, helping Wen Qing and Wen Ning to their feet, greeting A-Yuan breezily, and moving the other villagers, making his rounds and helping them all get ready to leave.

“Is... Is he always like this, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan inquired faintly, watching as his niece and nephew followed Huaisang to help move everyone, and Lan Qiren chuckled.

“You’ll get used to it, Wen Ruohan,” he smiled, and the Wen sect leader smiled up at him. 

“I will... won’t I?” he said, reaching up, cradling the back of Lan Qiren’s head, and pulling him down in another kiss. 

This kiss was unhurried, and Lan Qiren had the fortune of savoring it this time. He felt Wen Ruohan’s hands tracing his jaw, tenderly caressing his ears, his neck, his long fingers scratching gently along his scalp. His mouth felt warm, slotted perfectly against his own, that sweet tingling sensation slowly blossoming all throughout Lan Qiren’s body. 

Wen Ruohan’s mouth opened slightly, his tongue tracing the seam of Lan Qiren’s lips, playful, asking for permission. He shyly opened his mouth, and Wen Ruohan’s tongue met his, hot, slick, wet, brushing against all these sensitive spots Lan Qiren had but didn’t even know about, delicately running along the roof of his mouth, making his knees weak, his head fuzzy. 

Wen Ruohan’s hands found purchase on Lan Qiren’s waist, pulling him down to sit in his lap, his touch so warm and grounding, Lan Qiren went along with it, wrapping his own arms around his senior’s broad shoulders. He had always been a relatively tall man, but Wen Ruohan was taller, broader, stronger, and Lan Qiren felt so safe in his arms. When was the last time he had felt so safe?

Lan Qiren tilted his head slightly, deepening their kiss, wanting so desperately to live in this moment as long as they could, his heart fluttering in his chest, matching that of Wen Ruohan’s, thudding against his own. His senior’s hands slid lower, gripping his hips, moving him even closer, the entire line of their torsos pressed completely against one another. 

“Ruohan...” he murmured softly as he pulled away for a second, tilting his head again and kissing the Wen sect leader again and again, their breaths in sync, his lips swollen and red, matching that of Wen Ruohan’s.

“I adore you, Qiren,” his senior mumbled, his eyes half-lidded, simmering like low flames, leaning up to capture Lan Qiren in another kiss, a foggy elation curling all through the head of Lan’s body at the praise and at his touch. “So much...” he hummed softly, nipping at his lower lip, then kissing the sting away. 

He had no idea how long they spent like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, making out like a couple of hormonal teenagers, but when they finally fully pulled away from each other, there was a silence hanging in the air. They both looked to see all the fierce corpses had been handled, stacked into a giant pile where Wei Wuxian appeared to be placing a bunch of talismans and Wangji was playing Sound of Vanquish. 

Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang were mending people of their injuries, the young woman’s qi appearing to have returned. Lan Qiren belatedly realized that the use of his own qi had also returned at some point. 

Meng Yao looked to have finished whatever he was working on, an intricate map of talismans surrounding a smoking piece of metal, what Lan Qiren assumed was all that was left of the Yin Iron.

“Uncle,” Xichen’s light voice spoke up, sounding a bit embarrassed, and both men looked up to see the First Jade of Lan peeking at them from around a nearby tree. 

“X-Xichen,” Lan Qiren struggled to his feet, Wen Ruohan helping him, both wincing at the wounds they forgot they had. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Uncle,” he bowed, smiling at him, then at Wen Ruohan. “But, we are ready to return to Qishan. A-Sang said he will explain the entire situation to you both when we return.”

“Let’s go, Uncle Lan!” Nie Mingjue waved, both unconscious Wen heirs tied up and tucked under his arm, as if he were carrying a massive sack of rice. “Uncle Wen!” he added, easily stepping onto Baxia, Xichen joining his side on top of Shuoyue. 

“Shall we go then, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan chuckled breathlessly, looking at Lan Qiren, looking disheveled, but bright and alive, his hand outstretched. 

“Yes, can’t keep everyone waiting,” he agreed, taking that outstretched hand, and they all headed back to Qishan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Yin Iron thing and Mo Xuanyu are kinda just quickly addressed in this chapter, but honestly? The Yin Iron thing still kinda confuses me, so I didn't want it to be a big important thing in the fic. It's just a piece of metal that controls fierce corpses nearby. Why does Wen Xu have it? I have no idea ^^' Why does Meng Yao know how to destroy it? He's a smart cookie ^v^
> 
> I wanted to have some kind of justice for Mo Xuanyu, poor baby T^T, so I will address more of how he ended up in Qishan in the next chapter, but there was really nowhere else to fit him in the story otherwise, so my bad ^^'
> 
> (I've never kissed anyone before, so hopefully the inexperience doesn't show TOO much in the make-out scene >///< )
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and thank you for coming this far, I really appreciate it T^T   
> You're all so lovely and I've had the time of my life embarking on this journey with you <3


	13. Lan Qiren and Everyone Have  a Discussion Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone meets to talk about what the hell just happened and the future of the Wen sect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's... There's so much dialogue in this chapter, sorry T^T Just, a whole lot of talking. It's all important, but still, so much talking >,<

Lan Qiren didn’t know what to expect when they returned to Qishan, but it wasn’t a mass of Yunmeng disciples blustering about like purple flowers tumbling through the slate-gray halls of the Wen manor. He saw the dark green robes of Nie disciples also running around, leading rows of Wens in different directions. 

He helped Wen Ruohan as they walked into the manor, Wen Zhuliu popping up silently at their side, quietly helping his adoptive father back to his quarters to patch him up properly. Xichen and Wangji helped Lan Qiren back to his own quarters, checking on his wound which was healing well with Lan Qiren’s qi thrumming around it. 

“Uncle, I believe we have decided to hold a discussion conference this evening after dinner, once everyone has rested sufficiently, if that’s all right with you,” Xichen said, gazing at Lan Qiren, looking for any other injuries they hadn’t taken care of.

“Very well, Xichen,” he nodded his head, then wrapped both his nephews into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you both are all right,” Lan Qiren shuddered, overwhelmed with relief that he had kept tightly locked in his chest until they had gotten a moment of privacy. “Please, don’t worry me like that again, especially you, Wangji,” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against his younger nephew’s temple. 

“Mn, Wangji apologizes, Uncle,” his nephew mumbled, sounding abashed, hugging his uncle back. 

“You too, Uncle,” Xichen murmured, pressing his face into his uncle’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around both his uncle and his little brother. “Just you and Uncle Wen fighting off hordes of fierce corpses on your own had me worried to death.”

“Uncle Wen?” Lan Qiren huffed, brow furrowed, and both nephews scoffed, Xichen pulling back to look at him with an arched brow and Wangji pulling back to look at him with a leveled stare. 

“Uncle, with all due respect, we tried to speak with you multiple times back at the Burial Mounds,” Xichen said slowly, looking like he was trying not to smile. “But you and Uncle Wen were... unresponsive to anything we said.”

“Too busy kissing,” Wangji nodded with a stoic expression, Lan Qiren’s entire face burning red. 

“We’ll leave you be, Uncle,” Xichen actually laughed, taking his brother gently by the crook of his elbow and leading him out the room. 

Lan Qiren sighed, burying his flushed face in his hands. How embarrassing for a man his age to be caught up in some young romance. But, he found that the smile on his face wouldn’t fade. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and he took up the Lotus Position, channeling his qi through his meridians, allowing the calming sensation to soothe him into tranquility and to efficiently heal the wound that had pierced his body.

Several hours later, after they had all eaten in the Wen sect’s massive dining hall, surprisingly few Wens in attendance, a meeting was called in the main hall. 

Jiang Fengmian, his wife, and children, including Wei Wuxian, all sat at his side under the Jiang banner. Mingjue, Huaisang, and Nie Zhonghui sat under the Nie banner. Wen Ruohan sat with Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Wen Zhuliu at the table at the head of the room under his sect’s banner, A-Yuan sitting in Wen Ning’s lap. Jin Zixuan sat with his mother and Meng Yao under the Jin banner, Jin Guangshan nowhere to be seen. 

A young boy, perhaps eleven or twelve, sat beside Meng Yao, dressed in dark robes, looking weary, but curious. Something about him reminded Lan Qiren of Wei Wuxian, perhaps those big gray eyes who knew too much for his age or the messy dark hair that stuck up in all different directions. Regardless of the resemblance that may or not may be there, Lan Qiren found his protective side flaring up again. 

The head of Lan sat beside his nephews under the Lan banner, settling down, flipping his long sleeves out, catching Wen Ruohan’s gaze from the other side of the room. The sect leader winked at him before his expression smoothed back to its aloof coyness. Lan Qiren bit his lip, trying to keep from smiling, looking down as Huaisang stood, snapping his massive fan shut. 

“Okay, good evening, everyone!” he greeted brightly, leaning his whole weight on his brother’s back, Mingjue chuckling, unmoving. “Welcome to our discussion conference, I’m sure we all have questions about what even happened today, so A-Yao and I will happily explain everything,” Huaisang beamed, waving his fan in Meng Yao’s direction, who bowed politely.

“Where to begin?” Huaisang sighed dramatically. “Well! Let us start with why Sect leader Jin is not with us right now! And who this young boy is,” he beamed, drawing attention to the child hiding behind Meng Yao’s sleeve. 

Madame Jin bristled, saying nothing, and the boy waved hesitantly, looking ready to burst into tears. Wei Wuxian easily stood, bouncing over and sitting beside him, ruffling his hair, babbling soothing nonsense to calm the boy. Wei Wuxian took the ribbon out of his own hair, using it to neatly tie the boy’s hair up into a clean and sleek ponytail. The boy blinked, sniffling, then beamed up at him. 

“This is Mo Xuanyu,” Huaisang introduced as Wei Wuxian continued to distract the boy from anything that may stress him out. “Jin Zixuan has been blessed with yet another half-brother,” he said with great sympathy, the young Jin heir giving him a wry smile. 

“May I ask how he ended up in Xuanwu Cave if he’s from Lanling?” Wen Ruohan inquired, arching an eyebrow, leaning his elbow on his knee and resting his cheek on his palm. 

“Excellent question, Uncle Wen!” Huaisang continued, fanning himself with yet another beautiful fan, the Wen sect leader smiling at his theatrics. “Like our A-Yao, Da-ge, Xichen-ge, Wangji, Wuxian, and I, Mo Xuanyu lost his mother at a young age,” he said flippantly as a wave of melancholy passed through the hall. The very fact that Huaisang spoke about it so easily broke Lan Qiren’s heart. 

“A-Yu’s aunt and uncle took him in soon after, but they abused him, to say the least,” he said softly, a flicker of darkness shocking through his eyes. “Which is where we get to why Jin Guangshan isn’t here and Uncle Wen’s question,” he turned abruptly to look at the man who simply raised his eyebrows in response. 

“Seems like Jin Guangshan and your heirs and the Wen council have been working together these past few months, Uncle Wen,” Huaisang said solemnly, and Wen Ruohan frowned, his eyes narrow, “with the intent on overthrowing you.” 

“How did you find out?” he inquired, earnest, probably wondering why he hadn’t learned of it himself.

“Ah, Sect Leader Wen,” Meng Yao spoke up with a bowed head, “in the last few days when I joined the Jin sect, I have heard snippets of rumors around all the disciples that painted the larger picture of the plot against you.”

“I had confirmed it with several disciples once A-Yao brought it up with me,” Jin Zixuan also bowed his head. “My father had made a deal with your sons, Sect Leader Wen, to do whatever they wished and supply them with whatever they needed in exchange for Qishan’s help whenever he needed it,” the heir to Lanling continued. “Including dealing with his bastard son,” he said with a pointed glance at Mo Xuanyu who Wei Wuxian had managed to lull to sleep in his lap.

“Look, Peacock,” Wei Wuxian spoke up in a loud whisper so as not to wake up the sleeping boy, “I know your father is technically my uncle-in-law, but can I hit him? Just once? I can pretend it’s an accident,” he deadpanned.

“Get in line, Young Master Wei,” Madame Jin said, her voice surprising everyone. 

“So anyway,” Huaisang snapped his fan shut. “From what I understand, Jin Guangshan helped fund Wen Xu and Wen Chao to gather the resources to summon all the fierce corpses to try and kill anyone else who can inherit your throne while they planned on killing you as well.”

“And how did they intend on trapping me had I not shown up?” Wen Ruohan asked slowly, taking in all the information in stride. 

“Um,” Jin Zixuan flushed slightly.

“Rumors had been circulating that you were sweet on Uncle Lan, Uncle Wen,” Huaisang spoke up shamelessly, half the eyes in the room turning to the head of Lan, and Lan Qiren --very capably, he might add-- did not react. “They were planning on kidnapping Uncle Lan somehow and holding him hostage.”

“Well... I’m quite glad they didn’t take Qiren hostage,” Wen Ruohan sighed, “because even with circumstances withstanding, I don’t think the cultivation world would forgive me for killing my sons,” he smiled, and a chill went through the room at the implications. 

“I wouldn’t forgive you for killing your sons, Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren arched an eyebrow, and Wen Ruohan laughed softly.

“Then I’m very glad I didn’t,” he smiled back. 

“So,” Huaisang spoke up, clapping his hands together, gently interrupting their flirting. “Thanks to A-Yao and Jin Zixuan, we’ve unraveled Jin Guangshan’s plot, and we have him and his accomplices from both Jin and Wen in the dungeons to be dealt with later.”

“When did you both figure out all these things, A-Sang?” Lan Qiren asked, gazing at the boy fondly. 

“Well, A-Yao came to me when he began hearing all the rumors,” he answered, eyes brighter than ever. “I began snooping around then, so together, we put it all together very early this morning. I was going to warn you, Uncle Lan, but I was worried that if we were all too alert, then the Wen heirs and Jin Guangshan may call the whole thing off,” he said, apologetic. 

“Not at all, A-Sang, everything turned out just fine,” Lan Qiren nodded. “And how did Madame Yu come to be here so quickly?” he asked, glancing over at the Violet Spider. 

“Young Master Nie sent me a message this morning that my family may be in danger,” she said, her voice as sharp and resounding as ever, though the look to them was softer than ever. “He didn’t say why or how immediate the danger was,” she continued, casting the boy a stern look, “so I came immediately.”

Jiang Fengmian chuckled, gently placing a hand on top of hers, and she blinked in surprise looking at him. She _ hmphed _ , turning her reddening face away, but leaving her hand in his. 

“We have  _ why _ everything turned out this way,” Huaisang smiled, still leaning his entire weight on Mingjue who was contently listening to his baby brother babbling on, arms crossed, eyes closed, “but what A-Yao and I don’t quite know is _ how _ to deal with the aftermath,” he declared with a radiant smile.

“So, how will we deal with it all?” Meng Yao spoke up, clearing his throat. “From what I understand, Sect Leader Wen was unaware of these plots against him?” 

“If I had known, Meng Yao, we wouldn’t all be here right now,” Wen Ruohan sighed. “If my foolish sons had simply waited a week to put their plans in action, the Wen sect would not have existed any more.”

The statement drew silence over the room like a blanket. The sect leader had said it so easily, casually, but the implications were heavy ones. Everyone else in the room straightened, all staring at Wen Ruohan with intent eyes. Everyone except Wen Zhuliu who had remained exactly still and serious throughout the entire discussion.

“What do you mean by that, Wen Ruohan?” Lan Qiren asked, breaking the suffocating silence, and his senior looked at him, then smiled, that warm and gentle smile that he had gotten familiar with, but nobody else in the room had ever witnessed before. 

“You didn’t think I sat around doing nothing all those months away from Qishan, did you, Qiren?” he chuckled. “When I stepped away from my sect leader duties, I traveled around to the different villages. I wanted to see how the people were faring under Wen rule. 

“I learned that they were doing fine, sure, but they weren’t necessarily happy. With my sons and council members running around, abusing their status and power, blackmailing the people, treating them badly, while I was stuck in Qishan running everything else, the happiness of the Wen sect was suffering. 

“I couldn’t have that, so I spent time trying to figure out what the best way of addressing all those problems would be. I could banish my sons, exile my council members and replace them with new people, but power has a tendency to corrupt. All the people in my current council are people I trusted once upon a time,” he said, his eyes distant for a moment. 

“So, I thought, ‘How do I stop the corruption in my household while bringing happiness to my people in the most optimized way possible?’ And the best solution that also benefited me was to disband the Wen Sect entirely,” Wen Ruohan said calmly, as if he were speaking about dinner plans and not eradicating the largest sect in the cultivation world. 

Wen Qing and Wen Ning gawked at him, obviously not aware of their uncle’s intentions. A-Yuan blinked in confusion, not understanding what was happening, also looking bored at being stuck in this meeting of adults. 

“How did those plans to disband your sect go then, Uncle Wen?” Xichen asked in his sweet moonlit voice, easing the constantly looming tension. 

“Very well, Xichen, thank you for asking,” the man chuckled. “I also went around to the other sects to ask people how happy they were under their current leadership,” Wen Ruohan said, then laughed at the alarmed looks on the other sect leaders’ faces. “Don’t worry, all of you, your people are perfectly happy from what I found.

“Well,” he pondered thoughtfully, looking over at Jin Zixuan, “the people living in the Jin sect aren’t exactly happy with your father, Young Master Jin, but they look forward to your rule, at least,” he smiled, then continued addressing the room as a whole. “After I spoke with those people, I returned to my sect, asking village leaders how they would feel about living under a different sect’s rules.

“After the initial wariness, they seemed to understand that I had good intentions and told me they would do whatever would make their lives easiest, happiest. I told them in turn that I would have to speak with other sects about suddenly gaining villages and villages of people. I’ve already divided the resources under Qishan that would go out to the sects where my people would move,” he said, holding his hand out to Wen Zhuliu, who pulled multiple books from his sleeves. 

“Here are all the numbers I’ve come up with: how many people each sect would stand to gain, which resources they would be given to sustain themselves in a new land, financial resources for the sect to accommodate their new residents, which plots of land would be divided where,” he said, turning to A-Yuan, who still looked a bit bored and confused, and asked the boy to give the books to the people with the banner matching the front of the books.

“Okay!” A-Yuan beamed, toddling off, giving each corresponding set of notes to each sect.

When A-Yuan reached the Lan sect’s table, he shyly gave Lan Qiren his book. The head of Lan smiled at him, ruffling his hair, taking the book and giving it to Xichen who accepted it in surprise. A-Yuan, rather than head back to the Wen table, lingered with Lan Qiren. 

“Everything did turn out okay, Uncle,” A-Yuan beamed up at him, and Lan Qiren laughed, taking the boy and settling him on his knee. 

“Did I not tell you, A-Yuan?” he smiled at the boy. “A Gusu cultivator never lies, A-Yuan.”

“Really?” he stared up at him with wide eyes, giggling.

“Mn, never,” Wangji spoke up with a serene nod, and A-Yuan looked at him, clambering over to the younger Jade of Gusu and climbing into his lap, the telltale pink of Wangji’s ears giving away how flustered he was. 

“Can Big Brother tell me more about Gusu?” he asked brightly, clinging to Wangji’s robes.

“Oh, A-Yuan, don’t bother the nice big brother,” Wen Ruohan chuckled.

“Mn, no bother,” Wangji shook his head, his eyes meeting the Wen sect leader’s. 

“See, I’m not bothering him!” A-Yuan stated brightly, turning to look at his family leader who smiled. 

“Of course, of course, how silly of me, A-Yuan could never bother anyone,” Wen Ruohan said very seriously, his maroon eyes twinkling in amusement.

Whatever reservations the other sect leaders may have had with Wen Ruohan, seeing the man they all thought to be cold, aloof, and suspicious playfully interacting with the cute toddler seemed to dispel their worries. 

Xichen glanced through the book, nodding as he finished, turning to his uncle and affirming that everything written within made sense. Lan Qiren nodded back, but he hadn’t been too worried. The declaration of disbanding Wen had taken him off-guard, but it made sense the longer he thought about it. And the long-dormant selfish side of him had delighted in the thought of Wen Ruohan not being anchored in Qishan anymore, free to go wherever he wanted. Like Gusu. 

“So, is it all satisfactory?” Wen Ruohan inquired, watching as everyone had closed their books, murmuring to one another. 

“Yes, Uncle Wen,” Xichen smiled serenely. 

“Uncle Lan,” Mingjue spoke up, the rough timber of his voice causing most of the room to flinch in surprise. 

“Yes, Mingjue?”

“Do you trust Sect Leader Wen?” he asked bluntly, arching a perfect eyebrow. 

“I do,” Lan Qiren answered without hesitation, his gaze flickering over to Wen Ruohan who gave him a breathtaking smile. 

“Then I have no problems,” Mingjue clapped his hands together. “How do Jiang and Jin feel?”

“Everything looks acceptable on our side,” Jiang Fengmian said calmly, Jiang Wanyin nodding. Madame Yu simply arched an eyebrow, Jiang Yanli smiling beside her.

“We’re good on this side as well, but I do wonder what we plan to do with my father,” Jin Zixuan said, maintaining a very impressively expressionless look on his face. 

“That all depends on you, Young Master,” Wen Ruohan said, cocking his head. “If it were up to me, I would have everyone assigned to the dungeons until the end of time, but, that’s simply my opinion.”

“I think exile is a fitting punishment for people who use their position to abuse their power,” Jin Zixuan said slowly, “the only problem is that you can’t keep an eye on the exiled constantly. Who is to stop them from acting up again?”

“Oh! Peacock!” Wei Wuxian suddenly chirped, waking Mo Xuanyu. The young man apologized brightly, before returning his attention back to the room. “I think I can do something about that!”

“Oh, and what is that, Wei Wuxian?” Jin Zixuan asked, looking like he was trying to fight back a smile. 

“I’ve designed a talisman that responds to negative intent,” Wei Wuxian explained brightly, Lan Qiren baffled at how many things Wei Wuxian had been able to invent before he was even old enough to be called an adult. “Once negative intent is sensed, the talisman binds all the limbs and the person can’t move until the designer of the talisman removes it themselves. 

“I can set up a log of talismans on each person we have in the dungeons so that they activate whenever they enter an area that’s off-limits or if they intend on harming someone,” Wei Wuxian beamed, as if that were some easy feat and not something that hadn’t ever been done before.

“You’re quite the brilliant one, aren’t you, Young Master Wei?” Wen Ruohan grinned.

“Thank you, Uncle Wen!” the boy whirled his head around to look at the Wen sect leader. “I learned a lot at Gusu!”

Lan Qiren glanced at the Jiang family, wary of any negative emotions from Madame Yu, but she shook her head, the faintest look of pride in her eyes. Jiang Fengmian chuckled softly, his daughter following suit. Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes, but in that fond “my brother’s an idiot, but he’s our idiot” way of his. 

Lan Qiren glanced to his side to see Wangji’s eyes sparkling like stars, his chest slightly puffed in pride. Xichen and Mingjue shared looks of fond amusement, and Huaisang had a curious light in his large eyes. 

“Does that work for you, Peacock?” Wei Wuxian looked at his future brother-in-law.

“If you can get it to work, then yes, Wei Wuxian, it works for me,” Jin Zixuan said, his lips quirked.

“I’ll get to work on it!” Wei Wuxian saluted, picking up Mo Xuanyu under his arm. “Do you want to help me, A-Yu?”

“I... I can?” the boy blinked.

“Sure! I can’t do something like this alone,” he whispered conspiratorially, and the boy beamed. “Hey, Lan Zhan, do you want to come help me too?” he asked, eyes bright and alive with curiosity. 

“Before you go, Wangji,” Lan Qiren held up his hand, tilting his head while looking at his nephews. “Should we speak about certain  _ unions _ while everyone is here?” 

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian flushed a bit, sitting down beside Wangji. 

Lan Qiren was sure that everyone in the room probably knew something about his nephews’ love lives. It wasn’t as if Wangji and Wei Wuxian were exactly subtle about their affections. Mingjue and Xichen were more discreet about their emotions, but they had been in love with each other for the better part of at least five years. He cleared his throat anyway, glancing at Mingjue for permission to speak on the topic, and the young man nodded with a broad grin.

“For anyone still unaware,” Lan Qiren spoke up, “Xichen and Sect Leader Nie are engaged to be married, and so are Wangji and Wei Wuxian,” he said, the only looks of surprise coming from Madame Jin, Meng Yao, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning, Wen Ruohan’s brow rising slightly. He probably didn’t know about Wangji’s engagement. “I will not accept any voices of dissent. Everyone involved in the engagements has been informed and approve of the unions. The date of the weddings will be decided later. Are there any questions?”

“With all due respect, Master Lan,” Madame Jin spoke up, “how do Lan Xichen and Sect Leader Nie intend to run both sects while married?”

Lan Qiren would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it, but he wanted to leave that to his nephew to figure out. He was happy to help Xichen run Gusu should his nephew need it, but he didn’t want to shape the sect’s future decisions. His generation was in the past. He wasn’t necessarily needed to run the future. 

“Wangji will head Gusu,” his younger nephew spoke up suddenly, his eyes glazing over in ice, as if daring anyone to question his decision. “Xiongzhang can stay in Qinghe, if he wishes.”

“Wangji..?” Xichen looked at his younger brother, shock coloring his features. It looked as if Mingjue was surprised too. 

“Xiongzhang loves Da-ge very much. Wangji does not want Xionzhang to be lonely in Gusu,” Wangji continued, his honeyed eyes on his brother, effusing warmth and love. “Does Xiongzhang wish to stay in Gusu?” he asked, confused.

“It’s not that...” Xichen’s soft eyes glimmering over. “Wangji, I don’t want to push the burden of our clan onto you.”

“Helping Xiongzhang is not a burden,” Wangji said, gentle but firm. “Da-ge cannot leave Qinghe every time he misses you. And Xiongzhang cannot leave Gusu everytime Xiongzhang misses Da-ge.”

“Wangji, really, we’d be okay,” Xichen smiled, but Lan Qiren could see the idea of being away from Mingjue hurt him.

“No lying, Xiongzhang,” Wangji also saw the hurt. “Whenever Wei Ying is gone, Wangji misses him terribly,” he said, casting a soft gaze at his fiancé, Wei Wuxian’s face bright red as he hid it in Mo Xuanyu’s hair. “Wangji and Wei Ying will head Gusu, Xiongzhang and Da-ge can lead Qinghe. Wangji sees no conflict.”

“I also see no issue with that, Xichen,” Lan Qiren said, almost reaching up to stroke the beard that wasn’t there anymore. “Wangji is perfectly capable, Wei Wuxian is immensely talented, and I can always help wherever I can,” he smiled at his nephew who looked ready to cry at the drop of a hat. “Besides, you are always welcome to come home.”

“Mn, thank you, Uncle,” Xichen reached out, holding onto Lan Qiren’s sleeve like he once did a long time ago. “And thank you, Wangji,” he beamed, wrapping one arm around the younger Jade’s shoulders, “I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful little brother!”

“Mn...” Wangji’s ears flushed, pleased. 

“And that’s that,” Lan Qiren looked at Madame Jin who watched the whole conversation very fondly. “Are there any more questions?” he asked, giving Xichen time to wipe his almost-falling tears, noticing that Mingjue’s eyes were also rimmed a little red, Huaisang and Nie Zhonghui patting his broad shoulders. 

Nobody seemed to have any more questions, so they adjourned the meeting. Everyone ambled about, talking over what they had discussed, Wen Ruohan at the center of the gathered sect leaders, answering more specific questions any of them had. 

Wangji and Wei Wuxian wandered off after wishing Lan Qiren a good evening, bringing A-Yuan and Mo Xuanyu with them, probably to go design talismans. 

Lan Qiren smiled as the disciples all spoke to him about a smattering of different subjects. Wen Qing and Wen Ning thanked him for coming to their aid alongside their uncle. Wen Zhuliu even spoke to him, smiling at how relaxed his adoptive father was. 

As cheerful as everyone seemed to have settled everything, Lan Qiren felt tired. The day was long, and his mind was still whirring from Wen Ruohan’s decision to get rid of his entire sect. He wished them a good night, everyone still lingering and speaking, and Lan Qiren escaped into the cold night air.

He breathed in, his lungs filling with fresh air, clearing his mind a bit. Lan Qiren walked back towards his quarters, when he heard bright laughter from around a corner. He saw Wangji and Wei Wuxian designing talismans, Mo Xuanyu and A-Yuan off to the side, painting their own pictures. 

Mo Xuanyu was giggling helplessly as he showed A-Yuan how to paint something that looked like a bunny. Wangji’s gaze fell equally on Wei Wuxian who was carefully crafting designs for talismans, then to the kids who he watched with a fond tenderness and protectiveness. 

Lan Qiren caught his nephew’s eye who smiled at him. Wangji had smiled more these last few years than he had in the entirety of his childhood, and the head of Lan felt a surge of pride for his nephew. The weariness in his body had lightened at the sight of the four of them. Rather than bother them, though, he continued to his quarters. 

Night in Qishan had a coldness to it. While Gusu had chilly nights, the fog at least gave it moisture, the lavishly green plantlife adding to the stony mountains of the Cloud Recesses. In Qishan, however, the air was dry, brittle, thin, like it would snap if given the chance. Lan Qiren was ready to head back home.

“Wait, Qiren.”

He turned to see Wen Ruohan approaching him down the opposite end of the hall, his robes billowing behind him, the light of the lanterns around them casting a lovely halo around him. Lan Qiren let himself admire his senior unabashedly for once. 

“Are they already done with you, Wen Ruohan?” he asked as the man reached his side, Lan Qiren reaching out to touch his cheek. “Were they kind?”

“Oh,” Wen Ruohan flushed at the initiation of contact. “Yes, kind enough,” he said softly, pulling Lan Qiren into his embrace, wrapping his arms around the shorter man’s waist. “Are you tired, Qiren?”

“Mn, it’s been a long day,” he hummed quietly, easing his own arms around Wen Ruohan’s broad shoulders, resting his head against the base of his senior’s throat. “What did you need, Wen Ruohan?”

“What makes you think I need anything?” he chuckled. 

“I know you, Wen Ruohan, I can tell when you need something,” Lan Qiren pulled back, looking at him, unimpressed. 

“Ah, I can’t win against you, Qiren,” Wen Ruohan laughed. “I was wondering if you would come with me to speak with my sons,” he asked quietly, taking Lan Qiren’s hands in his own, and the head of Lan could feel how cold his hands were. “I would like to speak with them once more.”

“You’re nervous about speaking to them?” 

“No,” Wen Ruohan laughed a bit ruefully. “I fear that they might say something that annoys me, and I don’t want to yell at them,” he admitted, looking at Lan Qiren. “Being around you calms me down.”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren said. “That is without question.”

“I adore you,” his senior sighed, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“All right, all right,” Lan Qiren chuckled. “Lead the way, Wen Ruohan, so that you may all get your closure and I may retire to bed.”

“Don’t tempt me with the image of you in bed, Qiren,” he teased.

“If you manage to have a civil conversation with your sons, Wen Ruohan, you’ll get more than an image,” Lan Qiren stated, watching from the corner of his eye as Wen Ruohan stumbled over his own feet. 

“Oh no, Qiren, you can’t talk to me like that, I’ll never get anything done,” he playfully complained, composing himself as much as he could, though Lan Qiren could still see the red tinge to his cheeks. 

“Mn, good thing you already dismantled your entire sect and finished all your work then,” Lan Qiren answered, delighting in the flustered tizzy Wen Ruohan seemed to be in. Was this how his senior felt every time Lan Qiren reacted to his flirting? He could understand the appeal.

“You’ll give me a qi deviation, Qiren,” the taller man said, taking Lan Qiren’s hand in his own, entwining their fingers together. 

“You aren’t that weak, Wen Ruohan.”

“I am for you,” he answered earnestly, gently brushing his shoulder against Lan Qiren’s as they walked down the hall that led to the dungeons beneath the palace. 

The answer made Lan Qiren more flustered than any other thing his senior said that night, and he bit his lip, trying to will his blush away. It seemed Wen Ruohan still had the upper hand in catching him off-guard. His senior seemed to notice and he laughed, simply squeezing his hand tighter for a moment, and they reached the cells where the Wen sons were being held.

“What, Sect Leader, you’ve come to gloat with your cutsleeve boyfriend?” Wen Xu snarled from the cell, his younger brother sitting beside him, looking equally angry but more pouty. 

Lan Qiren felt a spike of irritation rush through Wen Ruohan, so he pulled slightly on their joined hands. The ex-sect leader took a breath, giving him a thankful look, then turned to his sons, releasing Lan Qiren’s hand. 

“I’ve come to apologize,” Wen Ruohan knelt at the cell, looking at his sons eye-to-eye, and both looked at him suspiciously. “If I had been a better father to you when you were young, perhaps we wouldn’t be here now.”

“Obviously,” Wen Xu snapped, but Wen Chao looked between his brother and his father with wide eyes. 

“Doesn’t matter now,” Wen Ruohan shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll see either of you ever again, but I do hope you both find happiness as I have,” he said earnestly, gazing at them both evenly. 

“Bah,” Wen Xu turned away. 

Wen Ruohan smiled, a touch hollow, then stood, taking Lan Qiren’s hand and began to lead him out of the dungeons, but a hand reached out to grab at the taller man’s robes. He turned to see Wen Chao looking up at him. 

“A-Chao?” he turned, kneeling again to face his younger son.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Father,” he said quietly. “Master Lan, please take care of my father.”

Lan Qiren blinked in surprise, and --from his senior’s barely audible gasp-- Wen Ruohan was surprised too. The head of Lan knelt down beside Wen Ruohan and smiled at the young man.

“Until the day I die, Wen Chao,” he promised, and the boy smiled. 

“Take care of each other, A-Chao,” Wen Ruohan said softly, taking his son’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Will do, Father,” he nodded with a smile, and the elder cultivators pulled away, Wen Xu still stubbornly facing away, though Lan Qiren could see his shoulders faintly shaking. 

“Take care of your brother, A-Xu,” Wen Ruohan added, his hand wrapped around Lan Qiren’s.

“I know,” he mumbled, and the men moved to leave when he cleared his throat. “Take care, Father.”

Lan Qiren glanced to see Wen Ruohan bite his lip, his expression tight. He smiled at his senior, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Wen Ruohan inhaled sharply, his eyes clearing as he looked at Lan Qiren. He slowly smiled, pressing a kiss to his junior’s forehead, and they made their way out of the dungeons. 

They walked back to Lan Qiren’s room in comfortable silence, but the younger man could feel the tension radiating off his senior in waves. When they reached his room, Lan Qiren waved for Wen Ruohan to enter first. The man looked at him, brow furrowed, but Lan Qiren simply pushed him into the room first, following him in and closing the door. 

“What is it, Qiren?” Wen Ruohan asked, loosening his robes with a flirty wink. “Want to have fun?”

“It is all right to cry, Wen Ruohan,” Lan Qiren ignored his advance, cupping his face in his hands. 

Wen Ruohan’s smile shattered, and his eyes rimmed red. He fell against Lan Qiren, burying his face in his junior’s neck, his broad frame shuddering as he cried. Lan Qiren held him, his hands spanning over Wen Ruohan’s massive back, murmuring sweet nothings to soothe the man. 

Eventually, Wen Ruohan calmed down. He sighed softly, wiping at his eyes as he pulled back from Lan Qiren, his eyes still red, though his junior only found that increasingly endearing. The head of Lan wiped a stray tear from his eye with his thumb, leaning up to kiss his cheeks. 

“All better, Wen Ruohan?” he asked softly, kindly.

“Yes,” he said quietly, leaning down and kissing Lan Qiren’s jaw. “Thank you,” he smiled, tucking his junior’s chin under his finger and leaning down to kiss it.

“Shameless,” Lan Qiren pouted, his chin surprisingly sensitive. 

“There it is,” Wen Ruohan chuckled, his hands sliding down to grip his junior’s hips. “Comfort me, Qiren,” he hummed, leaning down to press kisses against his neck, sucking bruises into the pale skin beneath the collar of his Gusu robes. 

“So bossy,” Lan Qiren mumbled, shivering at the sensitivity of his neck, sending chills through the entirety of his body. 

He melted at Wen Ruohan’s ministrations, his senior easily picking him up and leading him to the bed in the room, Lan Qiren’s back brushing against the wall as Wen Ruohan pressed up against him, incessantly kissing any expanse of skin he could reveal to the cold night air. 

The warm weight of Wen Ruohan’s body pressed entirely against his brought Lan Qiren a solid sense of comfort that he flourished in. He shivered when his senior pressed a trail of kisses up his neck, his jaw, then pulled him into a kiss, deep, slick, hot. 

Lan Qiren moaned softly, Wen Ruohan’s tongue brushing against the roof of his mouth, against his own tongue. His hands gripped at the broader man’s robes, loosening them, the fabric slipping down Wen Ruohan’s strong shoulders, the older man shivering slightly at the cold air. In turn, the ex-sect leader slid his junior’s robes down his arms, baring the entirety of his pale chest to the faint light in the room, Wen Ruohan leaving unhurried open-mouthed kisses along Lan Qiren’s shoulders, his chest, his collarbones. 

“I’m cold, Ruohan,” the head of Lan gasped between kisses, dragging Wen Ruohan’s hands lower down his back, the growing flames of desire stirring in the lower half of his body, the vaguely foreign sensation of lust clouding his thoughts. 

He let out a keen as Wen Ruohan ground his hips forward, searing hot and undeniably hard under his robes, the intoxication of knowing that his senior desired him just as much as he desired his senior flooding his senses, overloading his everything. 

“Mn, I’ll warm you up,” he promised, slotting Lan Qiren’s hips completely against his and grinding in slow, rhythmic circles, both men groaning at the electric shock that bolted through their bodies. 

Threading his fingers through the younger man’s hair, cradling the back of his head, pulling him in for another litany of deep kisses, the ex-sect leader kept his promise and drove them both to the heights of ecstasy all through the night.

Wen Ruohan awoke the next day, his body pleasantly aching, bruises coloring the entirety of his upper body, the sacred Lan ribbon tied around his wrist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, one more chapter, oh my God, my baby's growing up and is already a whole adult DX
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading thus far, I appreciate the support ^^ 
> 
> I think this chapter is the longest one by far, but it was one of the easiest to write? Hopefully, it's a good read ^^'


	14. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry it took so long to update this chapter, we had family over and I was kicked out of my room T^T)
> 
> The last chapter, ya'll T^T Thanks for coming on this journey with me, I appreciate it and love each and every one of you, I'm getting emotional >,<
> 
> Also, I have no idea about anything about old traditional Chinese weddings, so please ignore every historical inaccuracy I'm sure to have made

The normally quiet and peaceful Cloud Recesses had its tranquility lifted with festivities: decorations glowing red and gold in the sunlight, the smell of all different manners of food floating through the air: from the spiced lotus dishes of Yunmeng to the extravagant spreads of Lanling to the heavy meats of Qinghe. Normally Gusu wouldn’t dish out so many expenses for a celebration, but since Lanling funded the entire affair, the Cloud Recesses were having the most extravagant party they had ever hosted. 

Lan Sizhui, little A-Yuan, adopted by Gusu after Qishan disbanded, was five years old now and he had never seen such shiny decorations in his whole life. Flowers hung from the eaves of the rooves, folded paper butterflies and lanterns hung from strings arcing across courtyards. 

“A-Yuan,” Jiang Yanli spoke up, cradling her toddler against her, stepping out into the courtyard. 

“Auntie,” Lan Sizhui beamed, running up to her and grabbing at her robes. “A-Ling!” he chimed, his little hands reaching up for her son.

Jiang Yanli chuckled, placing Jin Ling down where A-Yuan hugged him, standing a half-head taller than the young Jin heir. She watched fondly as the two boys ran around, laughing and beaming and playing. 

Jiang Yanli had been worried about her son since Lanling didn’t have a lot of children his age, but her worries were laid to rest the first time she brought Jin Ling to Gusu and A-Yuan set eyes on her infant child and immediately decided to be his big brother. 

Jiang Wanyin darted past, arms full of different documents and a box of supplies. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of his sister and nephews, setting his things down and running over to ruffle Jin Ling’s hair and pat A-Yuan’s hair.

“A-Cheng, what’re you doing?” Jiang Yanli asked as he quickly greeted his sister. 

“Uncle Lan had paperwork to fill out in relation to the farmland in the outskirts of Gusu, but Wei Wuxian and I took it so he didn’t have to do it, but since he’s also getting ready for the wedding, I’m just going to do it,” her little brother huffed. “And then the decorations at the front gates got eaten by some stray rabbits, so I’m going to replace it.”

“You work too hard, A-Cheng,” she giggled, reaching out and patting her brother’s head. “You should relax today.”

“I’ll relax tomorrow, Jiejie,” he gave her a small smile and took off again. 

Jiang Yanli gazed after him warmly, then turned to see her husband walking down a hall nearby, speaking with Jin Guangyao who nodded with a smile and walked off in another direction. 

“Yanli,” Jin Zixuan looked around a pillar, smiling upon seeing his wife, son, and distant nephew. 

“Mn,” she reached out to him, her hands finding his forearms, squeezing gently.

“Mama,” Jin Ling ran over. “Why is Gusu so loud today? It’s normally so boring,” he pouted.

“Because there’s a wedding today, A-Ling,” she knelt down. 

“What’s a wedding?” he asked, eyes big, and A-Yuan raised his hand.

“Oh, oh! A wedding is when people who love each other very much choose to stay with each other forever,” he beamed brightly. 

“That’s right,” Jiang Yanli giggled.

“Oh, I want to have a wedding!” Jin Ling declared, and Jin Zixuan chuckled, picking up both boys and lifting them up. 

“When you’re an adult and you fall in love, you can have a wedding,” he said with a soft smile, Jiang Yanli leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Despite being married for three years, Jin Zixuan still flushed bright red at her affection. 

“Who’s getting married then, Mama?” Jin Ling asked, brow furrowed.

*********************************************************************************************************************

Wen Zhuliu stood at the front gates of the Cloud Recesses, gazing out over the distant mountains. He watched as the wedding guests arrived, checking each invitation with each guest. Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu both arrived with her ever-present handmaidens. A handful of Jin disciples arrived, bringing Madame Jin’s well-wishes and presents, and the tall and stoic man waved them in without a word.

“Wen Zhuliu, why’re you out here acting as security?”

He turned to see a familiar man approaching him, dressed in the dark green robes of the Nie sect, Nie Zonghui. The man smiled at him kindly, stopping at his side, gazing out at the horizon before them as well. Wen Zhuliu felt a blossom of warmth in his chest and dismissed it as the slightly warm air in Gusu’s mountains. 

“I would get in the way inside, and I’d rather not stand about being useless,” he answered curtly, and Nie Zonghui laughed. A pleasant sound, a sound that Wen Zhuliu liked more than he could understand. 

“You should relax, Wen Zhuliu, it’s a day of celebration after all,” he smiled sweetly, and Wen Zhuliu swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

Years ago, when his adoptive father had first begun to court Lan Qiren, Wen Zhuliu had asked the ex-sect leader what romantic feelings exactly felt like. At the time, Wen Ruohan had said it felt uncomfortable but in a good way. At the time, Wen Zhuliu had no idea what the hell his adoptive father was talking about. 

Now, he had an inkling of what he meant all those years ago. 

“Then why are you out here, Nie Zonghui?” he asked, trying his damndest to keep his cool. 

“Hm, I wonder,” he said softly, his gaze flickering to his companion. “You looked lonely, was I wrong?”

“Mn,” Wen Zhuliu hummed noncommittedly, his heart fluttering, his hand clenching in the need to hold onto something. 

Nie Zonghui laughed again, and Wen Zhuliu cast a glance at him. He had heard plenty of good things about the Nie disciple who acted as the sect leader’s right hand. Wen Zhuliu had a fleeting desire to have a friendly brawl with the man, see if his own physical prowess could handle the Nie cultivator’s dual swords. 

Looking at him up-close, however, Wen Zhuliu was surprised. Other than Nie Huaisang, Qinghe cultivators were well-built, strong, broad, Nie Mingjue being the epitome of all those things; however, Nie Zonghui didn’t really match the mold. 

He only stood up to Wen Zhuliu’s nose, with slim limbs, a kind face, long eyelashes. Nie Zonghui blinked, looking up at him, a question in his bright eyes, and Wen Zhuliu realized in embarrassment that he had been caught staring.

“Would you want to spar sometime?” he asked bluntly, hoping that his embarrassment wouldn’t show and that his brusque behavior wouldn’t sour the other man’s opinion of him. 

“Today?” Nie Zonghui asked, surprise on his face but his eyes sparkling. “On the day of the wedding?”

“No...” Wen Zhuliu flushed, and the shorter man laughed again. 

“I’d love to, Wen Zhuliu,” he said playfully. “But maybe another time.”

“Mn, sounds good,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a fluttering spring breeze dancing between them. 

“Ah, correct me if I’m wrong, Wen Zhuliu, but I’ve heard you can melt Golden Cores?” the Nie cultivator inquired, eyes full of curiosity but not suspicion or judgement.

“I can,” he answered, watching cautiously.

“How?” Nie Zonghui asked, taking one of Wen Zhuliu’s hands in his and turning it about, looking at it carefully, intently, and the taller man inhaled sharply at the touch, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. 

“I don’t know. I’ve been able to as long as I remember,” Wen Zhuliu said, his voice thick. 

“What does it feel like to melt someone’s Golden Core?” Nie Zonghui asked, looking up at him, his face far too close for comfort. 

“Mn... good, then bad,” he said, trying to parse together his thoughts. “Powerful, then guilty.”

“I’m surprised,” Nie Zonghui mumbled, looking back down at Wen Zhuliu’s hand, bigger than his own, longer fingers, darker skin. “I thought such hands would look more... monstrous?” he blushed slightly, smiling up at the taller man, abashed. “Your palms are softer than mine,” he mumbled, tracing the lines on Wen Zhuliu’s palm with his thumbs.

“You wield two swords,” Wen Zhuliu cleared his throat. “I wield none.”

“You’re right,” Nie Zonghui agreed, chuckling. “Your hand is very warm,” he mused with a slanted smile. “I think the heat alone could melt Golden Cores.”

Wen Zhuliu had the sudden desire to leap into the Cold Springs. He didn’t live a life with many conflicts, internal or external. But right now, he was stuck between wanting Nie Zonghui to keep holding his hand and wanting to get as far away from the charming man as quickly as he could.

All the times he had gently teased his adoptive father about his many ramblings about Lan Qiren, Wen Zhuliu found that he was now getting the backhand of Karma. He wanted to run to his father figure and ask him for advice, but that meant leaving Nie Zonghui’s side. Was he sick? What was wrong with him? Was it always so difficult to breathe? Was he always so aware of his own body?

“Zhuliu, come eat.” The familiar and stern voice broke Wen Zhuliu’s inner turmoil (none of which showed on his face), and he breathed a quick sigh of relief, tinged with faint regret, as Nie Zonghui returned his hand.

Both men turned to see Wen Qing and Wen Ning approaching from within the Cloud Recesses. She hadn’t changed much in the last few years, traveling all over the sects to improve her abilities as a doctor with her little brother at her side. Wen Ning had grown taller in the last few years, broader, but his timid expression and kind eyes had remained the same. 

“I should--” he started to speak but his younger sister figure scoffed and interrupted him.

“Who’s going to attack us, or even get past the barrier? And who in their right mind would attack an event attended by the strongest cultivators of the generation?” she arched a severe eyebrow. “Don’t be ridiculous. Come in and relax.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked back to the main halls. Wen Ning smiled shyly, running up and squeezing Wen Zhuliu’s shoulder in greeting and saying a soft hello to Nie Zonghui before darting off to catch up with his sister. 

“Well, that’s that, I suppose,” Nie Zonghui laughed, reaching out and hooking his elbow with Wen Zhuliu’s, the casual physical intimacy of Qinghe bleeding from his very presence. “Come, Wen Zhuliu, I’ve been on the receiving end of Lady Wen’s scolding, and it’s not a fun time,” he laughed, gently pulling the taller man back into the Cloud Recesses, their point of contact burning hot.

In most other instances, Wen Zhuliu would’ve pulled his arm away from anyone who grabbed him without warning, but he paused, blinking. Instead, he let the smaller man pull him back towards the festivities. Wen Zhuliu would not admit to anyone that he did so with a smile on his face. 

*********************************************************************************************************************

“Da-ge, you know it’s bad luck to see your spouse before the wedding, right?” Huaisang fondly rolled his eyes as he helped Nie Mingjue into his scarlet robes. 

“Yeah, and?” his older brother furrowed a brow. 

Nie Huaisang waved his hand in the direction of the other side of the room where Lan Xichen sat behind a paper screen, Jin Guangyao helping him with his robes. The elder Jade of Lan laughed, and Nie Mingjue smiled at the sound he had yet to get used to. 

Nie Mingjue ached to see his fiancé. Their engagement had lasted years, and they didn’t mind. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji had to develop a system of which expectations they needed to meet to gain the approval of the elder Lans, then Wei Wuxian had to figure out which chores he could help with as a future spouse of Gusu.

And while the Cloud Recesses were figuring out their next line of inheritance, Nie Mingjue had to prepare his home for Lan Xichen’s eventual presence, build a music room so the Nie sect could get into musical cultivation, a library for Lan Xichen to peruse whenever he wanted.

And, during those three years, all the other sects had to get accustomed to their sudden new land, citizens, and resources after Qishan disbanded. Granted, Wen Ruohan’s notes for all of them made the transition very easy. The only conflicts the four sects found themselves dealing with on a regular basis were demons, ghosts, and monsters, which they dealt with swiftly and efficiently. 

Never had a time been more peaceful. The biggest problem Nie Mingjue had in the last three years was simply living far away from his fiancé, which would only be a problem for a few more hours.

“I cannot see him, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen said as Jin Guangyao carefully set his hairpiece in, the light catching the jewelry.

“Zewu-jun is correct, A-Sang,” the other Jin heir chuckled softly, smoothing the lines of Lan Xichen’s sleeves. 

“Gah, I only like loopholes when I’m the one exploiting them,” the Nie heir groaned, braiding Nie Mingjue’s long hair into the intricate braids that were in fashion in Qinghe. 

“No political intrigue today, A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue huffed, seizing his little brother and catching him in a playful headlock.

“Da-geeee, you’re going to mess up my hair!” he whined, pulling at his big brother’s massive arm with all his strength, unable to move it. 

“You too, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen smiled, looking at his bright-eyed, soft-featured friend. “No political intrigue today.”

“Zewu-jun, I would never do anything suspicious on yours and Da-ge’s wedding day,” he bowed his head gracefully. “Tomorrow is another matter,” he beamed, and Nie Mingjue barked out in laughter on the other side of the room.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you and A-Sang are our allies, A-Yao,” he chortled, releasing his little brother. 

“It’s not like we have too many enemies in these times of peace, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen smiled as Jin Guangyao poured all of them tea. 

“Well, Xichen-ge,” Nie Huaisang flopped back over his seat, “we have to make sure the small fires of discontent are quenched before they grow into bigger flames,” he smiled, pulling an intricate fan out of his sleeve and fanning himself, his eyes sly and sharp.

“But that is a conversation for another time,” Jin Guangyao smiled, setting two cups beside the Nie brothers and bringing one to Lan Xichen. “Today we speak of love and happiness.”

The room filled with laughter on one side of the Cloud Recesses.

*********************************************************************************************************************

A different kind of laughter echoed from another side of the Cloud Recesses, in the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian was perched in a bath bucket, hair dripping wet, still not dressed despite the fact that his wedding was scheduled to begin _very_ soon. 

“Ugh, Wuxian-ge, you’re going to be late for your own wedding!” Mo Xuanyu groaned, trying his best to pull his senior out of the bucket, his underdeveloped muscles not enough to drag the young man anywhere. 

In his defense, Mo Xuanyu’s cultivation flourished under Wei Wuxian’s guidance and the lectures in Gusu where he made his home, but that didn’t change the fact that his senior was still one of the strongest cultivators of their generation, and extremely difficult to move when he got comfortable.

Mo Xuanyu had visited his half-brothers in Lanling frequently over the years, and he learned a great amount from him as well; but neither of them had any idea how to deal with Wei Wuxian. 

“I have time, A-Yu, don’t even worry!” he waved his hand, tongue sticking out in concentration as he continued to correct essays over the side of the tub. 

“Wuxian-geeeee,” the teen whined, looking to the other side of the room where Lan Wangji was completely dressed, looking ethereal in his red and gold robes. “Hanguang-jun, please do something about your husband!”

Another thing that Mo Xuanyu learned was that the only people who could get Wei Wuxian to do anything were Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji, but Jiang Yanli was far too busy in Lanling and too kind to teach him how to deal with her brother; and, Lan Wangji --though very effective at telling Wei Wuxian what to do-- was far too lenient on his fiancé.

“Mn, not husband yet,” Lan Wangji answered evenly, also correcting essays on his side of the room, a paper screen also preventing him and Wei Wuxian from seeing each other. 

Mo Xuanyu stared at the second Jade of Lan a second longer than he meant to. Like many other people of their generation, the teen had a crush on Lan Wangji. Who wouldn’t? He was the strongest cultivator in the cultivation world, ethereally handsome, morally upright, viciously loyal and in love with his fiancé. 

Perhaps Mo Xuanyu would find someone like him and get married after some random journey of investigating a wandering fierce corpse and a ghost town. Who knows?

“Not the point!” Mo Xuanyu sighed, smacking his forehead with his wet hands. “You two were made for each other, I swear.”

Both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji flushed at the statement. 

“Seriously, Wuxian-ge, please, you have to get ready!” Mo Xuanyu tried pulling on his arm again, but the man wouldn’t budge. 

“I can get ready in the blink of an eye, don’t worry!” he said, still correcting essays, though he picked up the speed. 

“Hanguang-jun, what do you see in this man?” the teen cried in frustration.

“Mn, everything,” the second Jade of Lan answered immediately.

“Wuxian-ge, how did you even luck into a man like Hanguang-jun?” Mo Xuanyu flushed, watching Wei Wuxian dunk his entire head into the tub of water in embarrassment. 

“I have no idea,” Wei Wuxian answered when he emerged from the water, his face completely red. 

“I’d give my left arm to get a man like that,” the teen muttered under his breath and slumped back, worn out from trying to maneuver his senior out of the tub. 

“If he tries to trick you out of your arm, A-Yu, I’m gonna hang him upside-down in a tree and plaster him in monster-summoning talismans,” Wei Wuxian said very seriously. 

“Thank you, Wuxian-ge, I appreciate it,” Mo Xuanyu smiled, “you know what I would appreciate more? _IF YOU GOT OUT OF THE DAMN TUB AND GOT READY FOR YOU OWN WEDDING_!”

*********************************************************************************************************************

Lan Qiren blinked, looking in the direction of the Jingshi, sure that he had heard Mo Xuanyu’s voice. He shook his head, then went back to delegating where decorations and guests should be, the Gusu cultivators running all around the Cloud Recesses as their last-minute chores got done. He spoke to several people at once, greeting Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu as they walked by, hand-in-hand, and the Jin family as they walked by.

“Master Lan, Master Lan,” a small hand and a large voice caught his attention, pulling at his sleeve.

“Hm? Yes, Jingyi?” Lan Qiren knelt down to look at the five-year old Lan disciple at his knee. 

“Master Wen is calling for you,” he declared in a voice too big for his body, his big eyes sparkling, a wide smile on his cute face. “He’s in your quarters,” he added brightly, then toddled off after A-Yuan and Jin Ling who were running around the hallways, pretending to be rabbits. 

“Thank you, Jingyi,” Lan Qiren smiled, ruffling his hair, and headed for his quarters, nodding and greeting at everyone who walked by. “Ruohan?” he looked around his room as he walked in to see an empty bedroom. “Ruohan?” he blinked, his brow furrowed, and the door shut behind him, a strong pair of arms wrapped around him. “Wha--”

“Qiren, you need to relax,” that deep and honeyed voice resonated through his chest, and Lan Qiren smiled against his better judgement. 

“I am busy, Ruohan,” he said, reaching up to pat his senior’s hands, shivering slightly as the taller man pressed soft kisses against his neck. 

“But it’s our wedding day,” Wen Ruohan said softly, nuzzling his face against Lan Qiren’s shoulder. “Let everyone else handle today, you can go back to work tomorrow.”

“I’m almost done,” Lan Qiren said, turning in his almost-husband’s arms to look up at him, decked out in his own brilliant vermillion and gold robes, looking as handsome as ever, illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through his windows. 

“Hm, can I convince you otherwise?” Wen Ruohan purred, tilting Lan Qiren’s head to the side, pressing a line of soft kisses up his neck, his jaw.

“No,” Lan Qiren huffed, trying to push his lover’s face away from him, though very half-heartedly. He had learned in the last few years that Wen Ruohan was _quite_ good at getting his way. “Your _convincing_ requires far too much time.”

“Well, from what I heard, Wei Wuxian isn’t even dressed yet, I think we have time,” Wen Ruohan murmured softly, taking Lan Qiren’s chin between his fingers and dipping his head down in a kiss. 

“Wait, he’s not!?” Lan Qiren pushed Wen Ruohan away immediately, moving to go straight to his nephew’s quarters. “The wedding is about to begin, what do you mean he’s not even dressed yet?” he demanded, Wen Ruohan pulling him straight back into his embrace. “Unhand me, Wen Ruohan!” he stated, squirming against his almost-husband’s broad chest. 

“It’ll be fine, Renren, don’t worry,” Wen Ruohan soothed, gently rocking back and forth. “That boy has managed to keep every exiled cultivator under check without issue for the last three years. He can get dressed before the ceremony begins.”

Lan Qiren took a deep breath, breathing in his fiancé’s spiced scent, clearing his thoughts. He sighed, pressing his face against Wen Ruohan’s throat, all the tension in his body seeping away. His senior chuckled, rubbing circles into his back, humming a soft melody that Lan Qiren recognized as the song his younger nephew had written for Wei Wuxian.

“You get that song stuck in your head too, Ruohan?” he murmured.

“I hear it so often, it’s hard to get out of my head,” he smiled, pressing kisses to Lan Qiren’s head. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through today and all the festivities, and then I can get you drunk and take you to our marital bed, hm?” he teased.

“You don’t have to get me drunk for that, you shameless fool,” Lan Qiren’s ears flushed pink as he buried his face further into Wen Ruohan’s neck. 

“Oh ho? And I’m the shameless one?” he laughed, a sound that had come easier and easier over the years. 

“Master Lan?!” someone called out in what sounded like stressed panic outside the quarters. “Master Lan, where are you?!”

“I need to go,” Lan Qiren drew away, but Wen Ruohan’s hand caught his. 

“I’ll go with you,” his senior said, his maroon eyes so unbearably soft, Lan Qiren’s heart ached.

“Mn,” the head of Lan said, leaning up to kiss him. “I love you,” he mumbled against Wen Ruohan’s lips. 

“I love you too, husband,” Wen Ruohan smiled against his mouth, kissing him again before they both left the room, ready to take on the rest of their lives. 

  
*********************************************************************************************************************

On the far end of the Cloud Recesses, in a room filled with the scent of gentians, the sound of a brush sliding against paper slid against the perpetual silence. 

A man sat at a low table, the perfect picture of Lan grace and elegance, dressed in the immaculate white robes, his back completely straight, his dark hair shining and sleek, his Lan headband completely even on his forehead. His brow was smooth, the lines of his face making him look much younger than his age, but the hollow darkness in his eyes making him look much older than he was. 

His skin was pale, having not seen sunlight in years. A still staleness hung in the room, a room trapped in time, unable to move forward, always stuck in a time long past. His gaze didn’t waver as he continued to paint, his fingertips dyed dark from constantly touching dark ink, the only thing he really touched anymore. 

The man in the room lifted his brush, setting it delicately on its tray, gently lifting the paper and blowing on it, drying the dark ink. Satisfied that the painting was sufficiently dry, the man stood, moving towards his wall.

Hundreds and hundreds of paintings covered each of his walls, so much so that the walls themselves were entirely unseen. Paintings of his late lover, paintings of his sons as they grew up over the years, paintings of his little brother from childhood to adolescence to adulthood, paintings of each of the people he loved more than anything, paintings of people he didn’t let himself see. 

He placed his newest painting on the wall, a painting of his brother and sons in the extravagant wedding robes they were sure to be wearing. The man smoothed his hand over the lines, a bittersweet sadness in his light golden eyes. 

Silence filled the room, his only companion for years and years, as he gazed at the paintings, and a slow sad smile crossed his handsome face.

“Thank you for finding happiness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far, everyone, really, I have no words for how much happiness this fic and its responses has brought me *sending everyone virtual hugs and hearts*
> 
> Maybe I'll write extra side chapters after this is over, we'll see ^^'


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